


And If the World Is Ending (We'll Be Just Fine)

by h0lyheadharpies



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV), anne of
Genre: 1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Pandemics, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26153047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0lyheadharpies/pseuds/h0lyheadharpies
Summary: Anne and Gilbert had a plan. He would go off to medical school and she would take the principalship at Summerside High School. Three years later, once he was a fully-fledged doctor, they would marry. But that was before. That was before the Spanish Flu outbreak changed everything.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 69
Kudos: 93





	1. Prologue

It was a dreich evening. Thick, heavy grey clouds were dancing along the horizon to the sharp melody of wind whistling through the nearly-bare branches of budding trees. The steady _plink_ of raindrops striking glass, and the yellow glow from a new lamp created the perfect sort of environment for letter-writing. As it were, Anne Shirley was in the process of composing a very important letter and she just so happened to possess the right kind of pen for the occasion.  
  


_Windy Poplars  
_ _Spook’s Lane  
_ _Summerside  
_ _2nd April 1918_

_DEAREST,_

_So much has happened in the week since I received your last missive, so please forgive me the delay in getting this letter to you. The flu outbreak in America appears to be getting serious, as I’m sure you already know, but people have begun to worry here on the island that it might someday soon reach our shores. Just this evening, I spent hours pleading with the board of trustees on behalf of my pupils. Oh, Gilbert, they’re talking of closing the school for the summer. No matter what approach I took in my argument, I couldn’t get those close-minded men to see sense. Ending the school year so soon, and when there are yet to be reports of the influenza in our hospitals, will be at the detriment of the students. I fear what this means for the pupils who are nearing their Queens entrance exam. How am I meant to ensure that they are sufficiently prepared when they have seven weeks of revision ahead of them yet? The trustees want to shut our doors as early as next week though I managed to get them to agree to think on it before reaching a firm decision. Understandably, if there were evidence of the influenza posing a threat to our health, I would relent but until then, I must fight for the continuation of classes._

_I so yearn for our future already. How wonderful it will be when we’re married, and I can as your professional opinion on such matters! Seventeen months still seems an eternity away though the first year-and-a-half flew by at an astonishing pace. I can only hope that these next three months do not linger any longer than they must, for while I adore my pupils, I long for those warm afternoons where you and I are free to ramble through the orchard and along the Lake of Shining Waters. On that note, I happen to have just the right pen tonight and so I must confess that what I’m most looking forward to is spending our afternoons picnicking in the most secluded of places…Hester Gray’s garden, the Haunted Woods, along the coast. Perhaps I might even permit you to kiss me in places Mrs. Gibson would certainly deem most unsuitable…so long as we’re away from the watchful eyes of Mrs. Lynde and Davy, of course! Just think, Gilbert, two whole months where we need not worry about exams or marking and are free to spend our days together, happy and in love. I simply cannot wait to feel the warmth of your embrace and am counting down the days until I am in your arms again._

_Yours always,  
Anne _

By the time Anne folded the letter into an envelope, scrawled Gilbert’s address on the front, and capped her pen, the sun had long crossed over the horizon. Normally on such a night, Anne would sit by the large window to the west of her tower room and admire the vast expanse of stars dotting the jet-black sky. However, the rain continued its steady pace and Anne couldn’t even locate the moon, concealed by a thick blanket of clouds. So instead, Anne went through her nightly routine and did her best to get to sleep despite the impending decision of the board of trustees weighing heavily on her mind.

The next morning, Anne awoke to a soft glow on the horizon. The calm after the storm created the façade that there was no need for Miss Shirley to worry as she walked the familiar path from Windy Poplars to Summerside High School, doing her best to dodge the worst of the puddles and thick patches of mud along the way. There was a sense of unease in the pit of her stomach which she chalked up to frustrations over the previous evening’s board meeting. Anne knew that she really had nothing to worry about; she had presented a seamless argument as to why the school should remain open for the time being. Maybe it was the eerie quiet that came with the beginning of spring, the lack of wind whistling through budding leaves. Perhaps it was the figure standing on the front steps of the school in the distance.

Mr. James Grand stood tall and important-like as he awaited Miss Shirley’s arrival. When she finally approached, he tipped his hat politely, though Anne made a point to pay no mind to him. “Miss Shirley,” Mr. Grand began, his tone unclear as to whether it was in greeting or in warning.

Anne continued to rush by the man. If she ignored his presence, there was no way she would have to act on the news which she knew was on the tip of his tongue.

“Miss Shirley, wait!”

“I said my piece last night, and I have nothing more to say to you.” Anne’s voice was stern. She was digging her keys out of her satchel when Mr. Grand finally caught up with her, placing an arm in front of the door to block her path.

“Miss Shirley, the board met again early this morning. School will be closed for the summer before the week is out.”

Anne dropped her keys to the ground, but she didn’t hear the _clang,_ a mixture of shock and anger overwhelming her senses. How dare they exclude her, the principal of the school, from such an important decision? If anyone were to have the pupils’ best interests at heart, surely it was she.

When he sensed that he had finally gained Anne’s attention, Mr. Grand continued. “It just isn’t safe anymore. People on the mainland are _dying_ and we simply cannot afford to take any risks. If it’s finances you’re concerned with, I can assure you that the board has agreed to pay your salary through the end of term.”

Anne scoffed. She couldn’t care less about the money. Sure, it was helping to save for her and Gilbert’s future, but if she lost her income, they would manage. The children however, well there was only so much she could do to ensure that they keep up with their studies outside the classroom and it would be significantly more challenging if there was no way for her to deliver new course content. And her poor Queens students! How ever would they prepare for the entrance exam? Would they even be allowed to sit for it?

“But what about the students?” she asked, incredulous.

“That’s precisely why I’m letting you know of our decision this morning. I advise that you use these three days to prepare them to continue their studies independently.”

“And how do you propose I do that, Mr. Grand? Lesson plans take time to prepare, much more time than a mere three days!”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Anyhow, I should be on my way. I have some other important business to attend to. Good day, Miss Shirley.” With another tip of his hat, the man was off, leaving Anne stunned atop the high school steps.

The rest of the day both dragged on and flew by as Anne did the best she could to mitigate the situation. While the pupils were on lunch, she called a staff meeting—much to the chagrin of the other teachers who used their thirty-minute break as a reprieve from the troublemaking Pringles—where she announced the pending closure of the school. From that afternoon through the final bell on Friday, all teachers were to prepare their pupils to continue studying their workbooks independently. There was no guarantee that the children would continue their studies, but it was Anne’s hope that they would be more encouraged to do so if they had a loose schedule to stick to. When classes dismissed for the afternoon, Anne stayed in her office, working diligently until the sun began to dip along the horizon. If she remained at her desk any longer, the post office would be closed, and it would be yet another day before she could get word to Green Gables that she would be home soon, much earlier than planned. It would also prolong the delivery of Gilbert’s letter and she knew her fiancé well enough to know that he worried if she left her replies to his epistles for too long.

And so Anne rushed from the high school to the post office where she scrawled out a letter telling Marilla to expect her by the next Friday.

* * *

The week passed by in a blur and before Anne knew it, her little tower room at Windy Poplars looked as desolate as the day she first moved in. The uncertainty that the influenza outbreak caused left Anne unwilling to leave a single possession behind in the event that school would remain closed beyond the summer.

When Anne had imagined packing away her room, she always imagined that she would be excited. Leaving Windy Poplars behind would mean going home to a fiancé who would become her husband before the summer was out. It meant the beginning of a future that she and Gilbert had been working tirelessly for over the past three years.

So when Anne was locking the last of her possessions way in her trunk, she was dismayed to discover that she felt hollow and anxious. Her wedding to Gilbert was still more than a year off and while he was her certain future, he was also studying to be a doctor on the mainland. The mainland where the number of influenza cases were growing by the day if the rumours floating around Summerside were anything to go by—not that Anne often paid mind to that sort of chatter. Anne knew better than to let her thoughts run away from her, but she wouldn’t be calm until Gilbert was reassuring her himself. Speaking of Gilbert, his reply had arrived just after breakfast that morning and Rebecca Dew had been kind enough to pack it alongside Anne’s lunch for her train journey home. After a series of tearful goodbyes from Aunt Kate and Aunt Chatty, and promises on Anne’s end that she would return to visit them, the cab Anne had hired to take her to the station sped off down Spook’s Lane.

Train journeys had always held a special place in Anne’s heart. From the time she was little, taking the train meant embarking on a new adventure. Before she arrived at Green Gables, each time Anne boarded a locomotive, she was filled with hope that her new home would be much better than the last, that the family she was being sent to might be good, might even love her as one of their own. Even when she was being returned to the orphanage, Anne was always hopeful that her forever family was just around the corner and eventually, that wish became a reality. The train brought her to Green Gables, to Queens, and to Redmond; each destination presenting a pivotal time in her life. Anne remembered how hopeful and optimistic she was when she disembarked in Summerside nearly two years ago, how excited she was to commence her principalship. However, as the familiar whistle sounded, and the train began to roll forward, Anne couldn’t help but feel dismayed.

Anne wanted to leave Summerside High School on a high note. She wanted to see her pupils excel on the Queens entrance exam. Instead, she was on the afternoon train to Bright River, where Davy would be waiting with the buggy to take her home to Green Gables and for the first time, she was not looking forward to returning to the first place she had ever truly called home. Anne’s mood was reflected in the weather. Grey clouds filled the skyline on the horizon, a steady drizzle dampening the air. It was the sort of weather that made Anne want to curl up and read when she was a girl, tucked up in front of the fire in Matthew’s old armchair, the sort of weather best left to a day of baking in the kitchen or writing the most tragical romance. In Anne’s opinion, the dreich climate also created the perfect sort of environment for reading a letter from one’s fiancé, so as the damp hills rolled past her, that is precisely what she did.


	2. Chapter 1

The train car was eerily empty. Save for the ticket master and a few elderly folks snoozing a few seats back, Anne was alone—something which the redhead was grateful for. Anne was always careful not to open any of Gilbert’s letters in front of the prying eyes of others. Her fiancé had an uncanny knack for making her blush crimson and, given her pale, freckled complexion, her body’s reaction to his words would most certainly attract the unwanted attention of others. She had learned her lesson early on in their engagement. After making the mistake of reading a particularly affectionate letter that Gilbert had given her—before departing for Kingsport, just a week before her initial journey to Summerside—in Matthew’s old chair and in full view of the twins, Anne had returned home from visiting Diana to find Davy hiding under her bed, Gilbert’s letter in hand. Marilla had punished Davy by volunteering him to muck the Blythes’ and the Barrys’ stalls in addition to the barn at Green Gables, but the damage had already been done as far as Anne was concerned.

Ever since, she had made a point of ensuring that she was well enough alone before so much as removing the folded papers from the confines of their envelope. Perhaps midmorning on a Thursday was never a busy time on this train route or people were beginning to panic over the flu outbreak. Either way, Anne supposed that unless the entire town boarded the train at the next stop, she was well enough alone that it was safe to remove Gilbert’s letter from its envelope.

_Nicholls House  
Redmond Medical College  
Kingsport  
6 April 1918_

_My Darling Anne-girl,_

_I must confess that I did worry at first, but knowing you for as long as I have, I thought that perhaps you might be preoccupied with other matters. Right I was, indeed. The influenza has been ravaging American hospitals and is beginning to do the same here in Canada. As I mentioned in my previous letter, my weeks of hospital observation concluded a fortnight ago, but my professors have been very transparent about the situation here. Each day, the number of patients with flulike symptoms is growing. So, my advice to you, dearest, is to trust that your students will prepare for their Queens exam as diligently as you and I did. And please, go home to Green Gables where I know you’ll be safe. I fear that the worst still lies ahead and even if the flu has yet to reach Summerside, closing the school was a wise precaution, though I am sorry that it has caused you great distress. Please do the both of us a favour and stick close to home once you arrive back in Avonlea. In your first days back, purchase as much sugar and flower as you can possibly manage…take Davy with you to bear the brunt of the heavy lifting. And please encourage my parents to do the same. I know mother will be wanting you over for tea as soon as she hears that you’re back. Indulge her as much as you like, but interact with as few other people as you can. Ideally, that means going nowhere besides Green Gables and my parents’ house…and the Haunted Woods (because I know how desperately you need to be surrounded by the trees, Anne-girl)._

_I’m counting down the days until I have you back in my arms. Dean Evans posted our exam timetable yesterday morn, and I made my travel arrangements as soon as my final class of the day was dismissed, and I’ll be home before sundown on the 15 th June. I’d ask to walk you home after church (naturally, we would take the long way, so you could help me get reacquainted with all of our old haunts…and perhaps that freckle at the base of your neck…you know the one), but I’m afraid I must discourage you from attending such services. With most of the town seated in such close proximity, it simply isn’t safe at the moment…I know Rachel Lynde will have a great deal to say on the matter, so you can tell her that is my professional opinion. Church aside, perhaps we might take a picnic that afternoon, the first of many. I want nothing more than to spend my days alongside you. If I could sit my exams tomorrow, I would if it meant I got to run my fingers through your titian locks and trace your lips with my own that much sooner. But even if that were a possibility, I have a lot of revision ahead of me yet, lest I fail and the two years of separation that we have endured will have been for nothing. So, I suppose I can endure these final two months of term knowing that it will all be worth it when we start our married life together in our house of dreams, wherever it may be. In the meantime, I’ll continue to keep you updated on the influenza as best as I can. Please heed my advice and ensure that our families do as well. I’ll see you soon, sweet Anne-girl._

_All my love,  
Gil  
  
_

Anne read the letter several times over before neatly back into its envelope. When Rebecca Dew had informed her that Gilbert’s letter had finally arrived, Anne had been so sure that he would commiserate with her over the closure. She had expected him to reassure her that the rumours surrounding this new influenza were hyperbolic and that they would all be just fine. Instead, the first half of the letter left Anne’s emotions matching the sky; grey, stormy, and uncertain though the latter paragraph warmed her heart still. With each letter Gilbert wrote, Anne couldn’t believe that she had ever thought him less than her romantic ideal. Spending two months confined to their families’ lands without him would be awfully lonesome, but knowing that he wanted to be with her just as badly was comforting in a way that Anne couldn’t quite explain. She wanted to begin her reply, but had no idea what to say. Gilbert had requested that she advise both of their families to take caution, and Anne knew that he would be awaiting confirmation that they were all safe and healthy. Besides, her best pens, the ones reserved for poetry, prose, and revealing the inner workings of her heart to a certain medical student were carefully packed away in her trunk. So Anne settled for staring out at the dreary skies and sad hills in the distance.

The rain continued to fall thick and steady as the train approached Bright River as if the sky was crying out in sorrow, mourning Anne’s untimely departure from Summerside. Anne’s sullen mood improved as soon as she lugged her trunk off the train to find Marilla seated beside Davy in the buggy, her heart warmed instantly at the sight of her surrogate mother who broke into a rare grin when she finally spotted the redhead approaching. Unable to contain her excitement, Anne dropped her trunk beside Belle and launched herself onto the front seat, squealing and pulling Marilla into a tight hug. If Anne had looked closely, she might have noticed a tear or two escaping from the older woman’s eyes, but lost in her own exuberance at being back with the people she loved most—well, most of them—the redhead was rendered oblivious to the world around them. Meanwhile, Davy muttered something as he heaved the heavy chest onto the back of the cart. Despite the circumstances, Anne was glad to be going home.

* * *

_Green Gables  
_ _Avonlea  
_ _12 April 1918_

_DEAREST-AND-THEN-MORE-DEAR,_

_As the heading of this letter indicates, I have indeed returned to Green Gables. Before you adopt that smug expression you used to wear on the rare occasion that you bested me in school, I should tell you that your letter arrived at Windy Poplars just as I was beginning to say my goodbyes to Aunt Kate and Aunt Chatty. The morning after I wrote that last letter, I arrived at the school to find Mr. Grand, chairman of the trustees waiting to inform me that the board had reached the decision to commence the summer holidays at the last bell on Friday. As you can imagine, I was rather distraught, and those final days were a whirlwind of trying to prepare the pupils to keep up with their studies independently…though there is no guarantee that any of them will. It is both comforting and alarming to know that the closure was not in vain…comforting in the sense that if your educated opinion is that there is just cause for the closure, but I have to confess that if things on the mainland are becoming as grim as you predict, I just might be wrought with worry until you’re back in Avonlea. I remember all too well how distraught I was when we thought typhoid fever was going to claim you…and you weren’t even mine to lose then. If anything were to happen now, I imagine that I would feel it tenfold, so you have to promise me, darling, that you will heed your own advice and steer clear of any and all unnecessary interactions. Speaking of advice, I passed yours along to my family as soon as I finished unpacking my little east gable room. Marilla and the twins took the news well, but I’m afraid Rachel’s stubbornness might prove difficult…_

Anne paused her writing as she reflected on the previous afternoon’s dinner conversation. “Utter nonsense, closing that school and sending you packing so early, I’ll tell you what,” Rachel Lynde told Anne, her tone indignant as ever.

“Rachel…” Marilla warned, knowing all too well how quickly things could turn heated between the two.

“Actually, Rachel,” Anne spoke up firmly, “I was of similar mindset initially and I fought tooth and nail against the closure. I was so angry that the board of trustees wanted to strip my pupils of their final month of education—an entire class planning on taking the Queens entrance exam—when there is yet to be a reported case on Prince Edward Island. I even voiced my frustrations in a letter to Gilbert expecting him to fully sympathise. However,” she paused, looking Rachel square in the eye, hoping that her expression and the tone of her voice could convey just how serious her fiancé thought the situation to be. “Gilbert says that his professors say the number of influenza cases at the hospital in Kingsport alone have been growing.”

“What does that mean, Anne?” Marilla asked calmly as Dora and Davy picked at their food quietly, intent on watching the exchange.

“Gilbert says to stock up on as much flour, sugar, and anything else we might need as soon as possible and to keep close to Green Gables. That means no going to church, no unnecessary trips to the shops, and no social calls.” At the last bit, Anne gave Rachel a pointed look.

“But—” Rachel began to interject, but Anne cut her off.

“If you must call on someone, I’m passing the same information along to the Blythes on Gil’s behalf, and he thinks that our households can visit each other so long as we go nowhere else. In any case, he says his mother will be wanting me over for tea and I shall accept any invitation she extends.”

“And what do you suppose the twins do about school? Surely you wouldn’t suggest that they abandon their studies.”

“Rachel, surely you haven’t forgotten what the girl’s been up to since she left Queens,” Marilla said dryly. If Anne were any less annoyed with the outspoken woman, she might have snorted.

“I shall tutor them myself,” Anne informed the table, earning herself a weak smile from Dora while her brother’s head dropped. “Oh don’t look like that, Davy! With just the two of you, I’m sure we can get through your studies rather quickly. You’ll hardly have to spend any time with your workbooks, I promise!”

“Davy,” Marilla began, attempting to bring the conversation to a close, “first thing tomorrow, you’re to accompany Anne into town to purchase those supplies,” and that was that.  
  


_Marilla seemed to take the news well enough,_ Anne returned her thoughts to the letter at hand, _though even after all these years, I still misread her all too frequently…though she did tell Davy to go into town with me this morning. You wouldn’t believe the look on the new shopkeeper’s face when we requested ten pounds each of flour and sugar. Imagine how shocked he must have been when your father showed up mere hours later, requesting the same!_

_As soon as our purchases were safely stored in the pantry and Belle was tended to, I went to call on your mother just as you requested. Needless to say, she was surprised to see me back in Avonlea so soon and we had the loveliest visit despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought me home. Please drop her a note sometime soon to let her know how you’re doing…I’m afraid she might be even more worried about your wellbeing than I—and that says a lot, Gil! On a more positive note, we now have a standing, bi-weekly tea appointment and I’ve been instructed to bring Marilla on occasion. I highly suspect that she’s hoping for some early wedding planning and I just might indulge her. I know your commencement is slated for early August, but how do you feel about a September ceremony? If you’d rather not wait any longer, August will suit just fine, but I love the idea of beginning our married life amongst the trees while their leaves are at their most magical._ ****

_On the topic of magical things, I took the long way home after visiting your mother as the weather finally took a turn for the better. The Lake of Shining Waters was just as blue as I remembered, the sunlight dancing across its surface so delicately! I have decided to reserve any visits to Hester Gray’s garden until you are here to accompany me…since that wonderful evening nearly two years ago, it simply doesn’t hold the same level of enchantment without you. The Haunted Woods are an entirely different matter, though. The way the light filters in through new leaves this time of year is truly other worldly. I found myself so lost in my own imagination there that I nearly missed supper at Green Gables. After thirteen years as her charge, Marilla didn’t bat an eyelash, though if Mrs. Lynde knew the truth behind my tardiness, she would not have been able to resist calling me childish, I’m sure. Oh, Gilbert, don’t let’s ever grow too old and wise…no, not too old and silly for fairyland.* In any matter, I have already been pushing my limits with that woman, so I’d best not let her see the light filtering beneath my door much longer, so goodnight, dearest.  
  
Your very Anne-est ANNE._

_P.S. I’m afraid that I have lent my very best pen to Dora so that she can pen a note to Ralph Andrews since she will not be returning to school come Monday and it just doesn’t feel right revealing my heart to you with any other._

* * *

_Nicholls House  
Redmond Medical College  
Kingsport  
_ _17 April 1918_

_Anne-est of Annes,_

_I was delighted to see that your last letter was sent from Green Gables. Focusing on my studies knowing what waits for me in Avonlea is proving difficult, but I can rest much easier knowing that you are safe and amongst those we love best. I am pleased that I was able to provide you some comfort, though I truly wish that there was no need for it. Anne, you should know by now that I’ve been yours ever since that day you broke your slate over my head…please don’t worry about me—I know that is a fruitless ask. I’ve taken to studying in my room at the boarding house whenever I can. I hope Mrs. Lynde doesn’t give you too much trouble and that Davy doesn’t become too restless…perhaps Marilla might come up with some extra farm work to keep him busy?_

_Mum’s letter arrived alongside yours and I think it’s safe to say that she is thrilled at the prospect of having you over for frequent teas. I’ve written her as well to let her know that I am avoiding the masses and studying in my room, only leaving for meals, lectures, and whenever I need to borrow another book from the library. I will not lie to you, Anne-girl, things are getting progressively worse on the mainland. Each morning, the newspapers report even higher death tolls in Toronto and Montreal. According to my professors, Kingsport is only in slightly better shape as the number of hospitalisations continue to rise. As a future medical professional, I am doing my best to stay optimistic though it truly appears that the worst still lies ahead. Truthfully, the idea of beginning my practical year in the midst of such a destructive epidemic is worrisome._

_I would love nothing more than to marry you as soon as my medical license is in hand, but I agree that September will suit us both well. Oh darling dryad, you always look most beautiful amongst the changing leaves…not to say that I don’t find you beautiful at all other times! On all matters of planning, I know how eager Mum is to contribute…I trust anything you decide on both of our behalf, Anne-girl._

_I’m afraid I must cut this letter a bit short as I’m a bit further behind on my current essay than I would like to be. Less than sixty days until we are walking arm-and-arm through the garden we both hold so dear._

_Love Always,  
_ _Gilbert_

_P.S. I wholeheartedly agree that we shall never leave fairyland behind. How else could we ever raise our children with imaginations as vivid as your own?_

Anne read Gilbert’s letter multiple times over. It wasn’t unusual for Anne to fixate on the more sentimental aspects of her fiancé’s writing. This time, however, her eyes were drawn to the paragraph detailing the rising severity of the influenza. Although Gilbert was doing all that he could to reassure her that he was taking precautions to avoid contracting the illness himself, the mere fact that he was attending lectures presumably taught by doctors who were exposed to the illness was terrifying. The fact that Gilbert would be at a severe risk when he returned to Kingsport in September was also rather distressing.

After a while, Anne emerged from her bedroom, deciding to busy her hands and mind by helping Marilla with the baking. However, no matter how well Anne tried to occupy herself, her mind was trapped in a loop, worrying about Gilbert commencing his practical year in the midst of a bad epidemic. After thirteen years, Anne knew good and well that Gilbert tended to neglect his own wellbeing whenever he was particularly fixated on something. Just two years ago, her fiancé had been so fixated on earning a scholarship to medical school that he worked himself to the point of exhaustion, contracting typhoid fever in the process. The news of her childhood rival on his death bed had sent Anne spiralling into the depths of despair—and she had believed him to be engaged to Christine Stewart at the time! However could Anne cope with the prospect of her fiancé working himself to death? The landlady at his boarding house had a responsibility to provide meals for her boarders, but was in no way obligated to ensure that Gilbert look after himself. Anne would have been concerned enough if there wasn’t a deadly flu virus going around, but now, the thought of being so far from Gilbert, the idea of him working himself to death while she was too far away to look after him was petrifying.

Anne did her best to follow the bread recipe Marilla had taught her more than a decade ago, but her thoughts were so distracting that even Marilla was incapable of evading them once Anne added far too much sugar to her dough mixture.

“Heavens, Anne, what’s the matter with you today?” asked Marilla. “And don’t give me any of that ‘don’t worry’ business. It’s clear that something’s bothering you.”

Anne looked up from the dough that she was kneading, her grey-green eyes meeting Marilla’s chocolate brown ones. “It’s nothing, really. I just received a letter from Gilbert this morning. The flu virus appears to be getting worse by the day.”

“I’m sure Gilbert will be just fine, Anne. He’s smart enough to follow his own advice on these matters.”

Anne sighed. “Still, I can’t help but worry about him. He’s going to be _in_ the hospitals beginning in September, working directly with patients. And he tells me that this influenza is going to be around for quite some time.” Turning her attention back to the loaf of bread that was about ready to be placed in the oven, Anne grew quiet.

After a while of working in silence, unsettling to Marilla, who had long since grown accustomed to Anne’s incessant chatter, the redhead finally spoke again, her voice soft and small. “Marilla, do you think we might be able to start working on my dress and trousseau?”

Anne didn’t need to specify which dress she was talking about, and Marilla could tell that this was something the girl had been thinking about for quite a while. She truly hoped that this wasn’t Anne’s way implying that she was considering tossing her career aside earlier than planned, but if a bit of extra sewing would put the girl’s mind at east, Marilla saw no harm. “I suppose so. Being confined to Green Gables, Lord knows we have plenty of free time on our hands these days.”

“Oh, thank you, Marilla!” Anne exclaimed softly.

“Now now, there’s no need to get all excited. Rachel purchased the fabrics months ago and we were going to start sewing once you were home at the end of June anyways.”

Anne still appreciated that she didn’t have to beg and plead with the older woman as she often had in the past. Knowing that her linens would likely be finished by the start of the Fall term should anything happen put her mind at ease; enough so that she was able to write the entirety of her reply to Gilbert while she was waiting for the bread to bake.

_Green Gables  
_ _Avonlea  
_ _22 April 1918_

_Dearest Gilbert,_

_Indeed I have returned home, though Green Gables and Avonlea have never felt less like my home than they do these days…not even when I first arrived, before Marilla decided that she and Matthew would keep me for good. I always found it rather cliché whenever one of my beloved romance novels implied that home was not a place but a person. These days, I am wondering if, like most clichés, this one might be true. I am so sure that this place will begin to feel like home again once you and I are reunited. I apologise that I was such a wretched little fool for so long; first denying myself your friendship and then ignoring my love for you until you were on the brink of death. But now…Gilbert, I’m afraid I’m scandalously in love with you!* Dora and Davy have adjusted to doing their schooling from home quite spectacularly and Davy even says that he would much rather finish his studies in this manner, though I strongly suspect that’s because I allow him to spend his days tending to the farm so long as he sets aside two hours before lunch for his lessons. Mrs. Lynde is as restless as I expected, but I think she’ll soon settle down once Marilla gives her permission to begin working on my trousseau._

_I’ve quite enjoyed having tea with your mum and I think it goes without saying that she is yet another kindred spirit. I just love hearing her stories about travelling across Canada when your dad first brought her to Avonlea. I don’t think I’ve ever asked you about your time in Alberta? Was it lovely, dearest? Perhaps we might visit someday. I am pleased to hear that you are taking care of yourself as best as you can in these circumstances, though given your track record with illnesses during exam time, I will remain anxious until you are on your way back to me._

_Oh, I cannot wait to tell your mother and Marilla that we can officially begin planning! Things have been rather dull here as we keep to our confines. I wish I had a bit more to report, but little has happened since I last wrote. Diana is expecting again, and I so wish that I could visit with her and tend to Fred Jr., but I would never forgive myself if I somehow managed to bring the influenza into their home. The prospect of raising our own children with an appreciation for fairyland makes me incandescently happy…the thought of raising any children with you makes me incandescently happy. I spent my entire childhood dreaming of someday having a family of my own and, while I’ve managed to find that at Green Gables, what I’d like most is to build one with you!_

_Never apologise for brevity if it means I get to hear from you sooner. As always, I’m counting the days until we are reunited once again._

_All my love,  
Anne_

* * *

_Nicholls House  
Redmond Medical College  
Kingsport  
_ _5 May 1918_

_My Anne-girl,_

_I am so very sorry that I didn’t get a chance to write sooner, but the influenza outbreak is significantly worse than I think anyone could have predicted. There is now talk of it being declared a pandemic as the American and European newspapers are supposedly reporting even worse case numbers than Toronto and Montreal were. The outbreak in Kingsport is particularly bad now, too. I have been studying furiously as my exams have been moved forward a full month. I’ll be coming home to you in ten days time! I wish I could write more, but I still have so much to do._

_See you soon (finally),  
Gilbert_

Gilbert arrived in Avonlea on a Wednesday afternoon and, true to his word, called on Anne as soon as his trunk was put away in his childhood bedroom. Anne, who had been restless all morning, could hardly contain herself when she saw Gilbert walking up the porch steps. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a sharp squeal as she opened the front door and flung her arms around Gilbert’s neck. If Gilbert minded Anne’s overzealous greeting, he certainly had her fooled as his arms circled her impossibly tiny waist, drawing her much closer than Rachel Lynde would have deemed appropriate—had she not been napping at Marilla’s insistence—pressing his lips to her crown and inhaling the familiar, comforting scent he had missed as much as the woman it belonged to. The couple stood in their tight embrace for several minutes, neither willing to let the other go after so many months of separation. When they finally broke apart, Gilbert was alarmed to see the remnants of tears streaming down Anne’s freckled cheeks.

“You’re crying, Anne-girl,” he told his fiancée, concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m sorry, Gil,” Anne chuckled. “I’m just so happy to see you. I’ve been so worried these past few weeks and I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

“Well, I’m here now and I believe I promised you a walk through Hester Gray’s garden…unless you have something else planned for this afternoon?”

“I’m sorry, I promised my fiancée that I wouldn’t go there with anyone else but him,” Anne teased.

“Ah, I see. He must be one lucky fellow,” Gilbert played along.

“Indeed he is…though not nearly as lucky as I.”

“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree there, Carrots. I’m the luckiest,” Gilbert insisted, causing Anne to roll her eyes.

“Sure you are, but we’d best get going before Marilla comes out here and scolds us for believing in luck. She’ll be adamant that this is all providential.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Shirley.” Gilbert offered Anne his arm, which she took quite willingly, keeping closer to Gilbert than most townsfolk would deem proper for an engaged couple.

Anne and Gilbert relished in each other’s company as they walked along Lover’s Lane, doing their best to make up for lost time. If that meant stealing kisses behind the occasional tree, well, their families were keeping their distance from the rest of the town anyways.

In no time, they were seated on the familiar bench where they had revealed their hearts to one another nearly two years ago. The garden had a timeless effect and it felt almost as if no time had passed since Anne had accepted Gilbert’s proposal all those months ago, the flowers preserved in time just as their feelings toward one another were. This time, however, the hand Gilbert held was adorned with a delicate ring, a circlet of pearls that would someday be joined with an emerald stone.

“The skies are certainly glad to have you home. The only thing that _might_ be bluer today is the sea.”

“And you?”

Anne stared at Gilbert, eyes shining with adoration. “I,” she began, pausing for emphasis, “am incandescently happy.”

Gilbert’s gaze matched Anne’s as he pulled her into a slow, tender kiss. If anyone else happened to walk by, they would have been positively scandalised, but Gilbert could not find it in himself to care, nor could Anne, who returned his affection with equal fervour, running her fingers gently through his soft curls as she attempted to re-memorise him. In the months since the Christmas holidays, his jawline had grown sharper as he lost the last of his boyishness.   
  
The two sat amongst the flowers, finally in full bloom, discussing anything and everything—dreaming of their future together which was growing closer and closer to becoming reality with each passing day—and exchanging languid kisses, shielded in the privacy of the surrounding flora. They remained in the secluded garden until the sun hung low on the horizon, it’s pink-orange glow illuminating their walk back to Green Gables.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In the weeks following his return to Avonlea, Anne and Gilbert spent as much time together as they possibly could, enjoying several picnics among the flowers and the trees. Gilbert had taken to joining Anne and his mother once a week for tea—unless his father needed help in the fields, of course. Whenever they weren’t together, Anne kept busy sewing linens and doilies with the women of Green Gables. Rachel Lynde had been overzealous in designing Anne’s bridal gown, so all that remained was the final alterations.

No matter what responsibilities Anne or Gilbert had any given week, Wednesday afternoon was reserved for picnicking in the Haunted Woods. Anne usually enjoyed these outings more than any other. However, one such Wednesday in late June, Anne awoke feeling uneasy, her mood worsened by the newspaper Davy had fetched from town. Living in near total isolation, it had been easy enough to forget about the influenza pandemic that was sweeping across the country. Once Anne had seen for herself that Gilbert was healthy, her fears had been temporarily eased. The happy little bubble in which Anne had ensconced herself made that morning’s headlines all the more shocking. The death toll was rising in Nova Scotia—particularly Halifax and Kingsport—and it was only a matter of time before cases would begin popping up in Charlottetown. The arrival of the deadly influenza on Prince Edward Island was worrisome enough, but the article served as another reminder that Gilbert would be charging into danger come September…and Anne would be more than three-hundred kilometres away, worrying that he might contract the virus with no one around to properly care for him.

The weather seemed to mimic Anne’s mood, grey clouds looming heavy on the horizon, darkening the sky yet unwilling to release their tears. Anne suspected that it might rain that afternoon, but until she felt the raindrops herself, she refused to cancel on Gilbert.

Gilbert shared Anne’s sentiment, arriving prompt as usual, though far more reserved than was typical of him. As usual, he offered Anne his arm, but he was far less talkative, offering the occasional mumble in response to Anne’s story about Davy’s latest predicament. _Perhaps he read the same article,_ Anne thought. _That must be it; he saw that the flu is getting worse in Kingsport and he’s worried. Heck,_ I’m _worried._

When they were finally seated in the familiar clearing in the woods and Gilbert failed to comment on Marilla’s plum puffs for the first time in the many years Anne knew him, she could no longer keep her concern to herself.

“What’s wrong, Gil?” she asked, nervously.

“Nothing,” Gilbert dismissed offhandedly. “I’m just a bit tired is all.”

Anne knew better than to accept that. In their first year at Redmond, she had witnessed Gilbert engage in many debates and discussions after staying up nearly all night to study. Exhaustion didn’t impede her fiancé’s ability to hold a conversation. No, there had to be something else on his mind.

“Gil,” Anne squeezed her fiancé’s hand, her grey-green eyes staring into his hazel ones. “If we’re to be married someday, you can’t worry about burdening with your troubles.” She gripped his hands tightly, rubbing soothing circles with her thumbs. “If something’s weighing on your mind, I want to be able to help you.”

Gilbert met Anne’s gaze sadly, nodding in resignation. “I got a letter from Mrs. Nicholls at the boarding house this morning.” He sighed. “Harry Anderson, one of the other boarders who was in the class ahead of mine caught the flu from one of his patients.”

Anne gasped, squeezing Gilbert’s hand comfortingly. “Will he be alright.”

“He died, Anne.” Gilbert’s tone was cold and serious, shock evident in the way he spoke.

Anne’s chest tightened as anxiety washed over her. She hadn’t worried about Gilbert coming down with the flu in quite a while, choosing to focus on enjoying the time that they had together. Suddenly the pandemic seemed much more real than it ever had. Gilbert would be returning to Redmond in a mere two months. Gilbert would be working in the hospital while a deadly virus ran rampant through its halls. Gilbert would be risking his life every single day while Anne sat hundreds of kilometres away, helpless should Gilbert need someone to nurse him back to health. The idea of her beloved wasting away in a hospital, alone, absolutely terrified Anne. Unless…yes, Anne knew of a way to ensure that Gilbert had someone to care for him.

“Gilbert,” Anne looked into his sad hazel eyes, her voice shaky but sure. “I think we should get married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *denotes a sentence taken from Windy Poplars
> 
> I can't promise that updates will occur all too frequently right now as I have a lot on my plate between my job and some rather sensitive irl situations, but I will do my best.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

It was a sunny morning in mid-July when the first bride of Green Gables awoke in her little east gable room. By nightfall, she would be Anne of Green Gables no longer, a thought which both thrilled and saddened her in equal measures. Anne was eager to fuse her life with Gilbert’s, though she wished it were under happier circumstances, completely on their terms rather than the threat of a deadly illness forcing their hands. Throughout the past month, however, Anne was constantly replaying their conversation in the woods over and over in her head and each time, she reached the conclusion that marrying a year earlier than initially planned was the right decision. 

_“Gilbert,” Anne looked into his sad hazel eyes, her voice shaky but sure. “I think we should get married.”_

_Gilbert stared at Anne in utter disbelief. Selfishly, he would have married her before that first summer was out, but what sort of life would his Anne have as the housewife of a poor medical student? Even if they were to overlook the fact that Gilbert was on scholarship, Anne would be miserable–and likely so very lonely–keeping house for him when she could instead be putting that hard-earned BA to good use. And so Gilbert had asked her to wait three years for him to finish medical school. Three years would allow them the time to work and save toward their future, but now...now, there was a pandemic threatening to ruin everything._

_“Anne,” Gilbert began, squeezing her hand, his tone serious. “I’ve still got another year of school. You’ve still got one more year of your principalship. We...can’t.”_

_“Even if school were to resume in September, which the board of trustees will never allow so long as the death toll keeps rising, I’ll hardly be the teacher my pupils deserve if I’m constantly in a state of worry. I nearly lost you once. I don’t know if I could handle losing you again.”_

_Gilbert’s heart broke at the sight before him. Anne, his strong, fiery Anne was trembling as tears pooled in her eyes. Releasing one of her hands, Gilbert caressed her delicate skin, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb._

_“I’ll be fine, Anne-girl,” he replied softly, unsure which one of them he was truly trying to convince. “You needn’t worry about me.”_

_“Fine,” Anne dismissed, knowing full well that Gilbert neglected his own wellbeing far more than anyone really should. “What if it were me? How would you feel if one day, you received a telegram from the women at Windy Poplars informing you that I came down with the influenza? Even if you hopped the next train, Kingsport is too far. I could be dead before the ferry was docked."_

_Gilbert gasped. He hadn’t thought of that. If anything happened to Anne, Gilbert would be beside himself and he knew it. Suddenly, shortening their engagement didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “Don’t talk like that, Anne!”_

_“It’s the truth! I would never ask you to pause your studies, but I will ask you to let me be there with you. You’re going to be working yourself to death. Let me take care of you, please,” she begged._

_Sighing, Gilbert nodded. As stubborn and unrelenting as Anne was, she posed several valid points and, as much as Gilbert wished circumstances were different, he had been dreaming of the woman beside him walking toward him in a white gown for much longer than he had been allowed._

_“Okay.”_

By sundown, Anne and Gilbert had managed to get both their families on board. Marilla had been sceptical at first, quieted only by Rachel Lynde boldly declaring that three years was too long for an engagement to be proper and that they should have been wed before the first year was out (Anne bit her tongue there, wanting to keep the outspoken woman on her side). Mrs. Blythe, on the other hand, was ecstatic that her son wouldn’t be returning to Kingsport all alone. 

Gilbert had written his landlady immediately, asking if she knew of any properties to rent and he had managed to secure a small apartment within the week. With that settled, it was decided that they would be married in a month’s time. Anne spent a great deal of that time preparing her trousseau with the help of Marilla, Mrs. Lynde, and Dora; having tea with her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and reading beneath the shade of the large oak tree.

In the week leading up to the wedding, Anne and Gilbert had both insisted that neither of their households pay any mind to the news. If the world were a safer place to be, they would have been marrying the following summer, a happy occasion long anticipated and patiently waited for and both were determined to ensure that their impending nuptials remain such. If there were any pressing matters, a telegram would be sent, but the Blythe and Cuthbert households would otherwise remain content in their bubble.

Anne had never been one to spend her mornings in bed and her wedding day was no different. In fact, to an outsider, that warm July morning would look to be just like any other at Green Gables; Marilla Cuthbert busying herself in the kitchen, baking the day’s bread before the sun beating through the windows made using the ovens unbearably hot while Rachel Lynde sipped tea at the dining table and gave Dora unsolicited advice on becoming a young housewife—something both Anne and Marilla feared would become a reality much too soon if Ralph Andrews had any say in the matter—and Davy tended to the cows in the fields. The morning felt just like any other to Anne until Marilla shoed her from the kitchen, insisting that she have her breakfast and relax since she had a big day ahead of her. As Anne picked at her porridge, listening half-heartedly as Rachel impressed upon Dora the importance of always having a freshly baked pie in her home.

Although Anne couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the older woman’s antics, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. Green Gables had been her first home, her first _real_ home—one where she never needed to worry about being beaten, starved, or sent back if she put a toe out of line. It was the first place where she had experienced unconditional love and it had brought so many wonderful people into her life, had brought Gilbert into her life and, while she was so very in love with him and wanted nothing more than for them to build a life together, knowing that she would never again call Green Gables her home filled her with a conflicting sadness.

“Look a bit more cheerful, Anne,” Rachel Lynde chided, pulling the redhead out of her mournful reverie. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were unhappy to be marrying Gilbert Blythe today.”

Anne gave the woman a watery smile. “I’m not sad in the slightest about that. I was just thinking about how much I’m going to miss Green Gables is all. I know we’ll come back to visit, but it simply won’t be the same. After today, that little east gable room won’t be mine anymore.” She looked across the table at Dora, who was merely observing the exchange. “You know, that room was the first space of my very own. I hope you’ll appreciate it as much as I have.”

Dora simply smiled and nodded. “It’ll be quite a relief to get away from Davy’s snoring,” she told Anne, causing them both to chuckle.

They continued eating their breakfast in a contented silence. Marilla joined them for a while once everything they needed for their afternoon meal was in the oven and Davy joined them not long after, having finished all of his chores for the day. Anne was grateful for these last moments of normalcy at Green Gables with her family. She almost wished that they could continue on forever, that time could stand still. The only thing missing from the scene before her was Matthew. How Anne missed her surrogate father dearly. It was a real shame that the man who bought Anne her first pretty dress wasn’t there to see the intricate taffeta and lace design Rachel and Marilla had worked so tirelessly on.

Before Anne knew it, the older women were shooing her up the stairs. “Up you go,” Marilla insisted. “Let Dora do your hair. I’ll come up when she’s finished to help you into your dress.”

Anne was jittery as Dora pinned her hair up in an intricate style, pulling loose a few soft tendrils to frame her face, and delicate apple blossoms woven into her bun. In the years since Marilla had taken Dora and her twin brother Davy in, the girl had remained quiet, something Anne was secretly grateful for as she reflected on the first night she had stayed in that very room. It was rather empty, not unlike its current state. The only major differences were the large trunk that had replaced her battered old carpet bag and the cream and ivory dress hanging in the armoire…and Anne herself. Gone was the skinny little girl who wanted nothing more than to have a home, who was ashamed of her knobby knees, myriad of freckles, and hopelessly red hair. The child who had come to Green Gables thirteen years prior had grown into an elegant young woman. Anne never lost her sense of wonderment, thirst for adventure, or her limitless imagination but she no longer yearned for a family or a tragical romance; how could she when Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert had shown her such unconditional love and support? And tragical romances were overrated anyways—she had decided that the moment Gilbert revealed the inner workings of his heart two years before.

As Anne looked out the window overlooking the old Snow Queen, she reached the conclusion that she had most definitely outgrown her little east gable room. The space was sacred to youth and girlhood—to the past that was to close today before the chapter of wifehood opened.* And, as nostalgic as Anne felt to close such a momentous chapter, she was eager to begin the next phase of her life with Gilbert. The new pandemic had brought so much uncertainty to her life, but her love for Gilbert had remained constant and unwavering. No matter what the future brought, Anne was ready for them to face it together.

“Dora, could you please tell Marilla I’m ready?”

* * *

“The first bride of Green Gables,” Marilla mused proudly as she finished fastening the last of the many buttons that ran from the small of Anne’s back to the nape of her neck. “When I was a child, I heard an old minister say that a house was not a real home until it had been consecrated by a birth, a wedding, and a death.”* Marilla paused, her voice hitching. “An old farmhand’s wife birthed a child here when I was a girl and well…” she trailed off, busying herself with fastening the long, lace veil to the crown of Anne’s head.

“I wish Matthew were still here,” Anne replied sadly.

Marilla teared up at that, looking into the young woman’s grey-green eyes as she finished adjusting the delicate lace curtain around her shoulders, patting her cheek affectionately. “Matthew would have been _so_ proud of you, Anne.” It was the same thing she had told her when she returned home from Redmond, BA in hand and it wasn’t any less true today than it had been two years ago. “He would have been happy to see you all grown up, wearing another pretty dress.”

“Oh, Marilla!” Anne cried, overwhelmed by the wave of emotion that she had been fending off all morning.

“Hush, child. It won’t do either of us any good to cry tears of sorrow on such a joyous day. Now, have you got everything?”

Anne nodded. “Your veil is old,” she ran through her list, “and as you know, this dress is new. Dora lent me one of her handkerchiefs, and I’ve tied an old blue hair ribbon from Matthew around my bouquet.” Anne gestured toward the cluster of roses and apple blossoms resting at the foot of her old bed.

“It sounds like you have everything sorted…though I’d never expect anything less from you,” Marilla chuckled. “How would you feel about another ‘something old?’”

Anne furrowed her brow, confused but her unspoken question was quickly answered when Marilla unfastened the amethyst brooch from her collar and secured it to the lace at the hollow of Anne’s throat.

“As you know, this is a family heirloom. I think a wedding is the perfect occasion to pass it on to my next of kin.”

Anne couldn’t contain the tears that began streaming down her cheeks and was surprised to see her emotions mirrored on the older woman’s face. She had only seen Marilla cry once before, as they attempted to comfort one another in Anne’s east gable room that first night after Matthew’s soul had departed.

“Marilla…I have no words,” Anne sobbed, throwing her arms around her surrogate mother, who remained speechless, returning her affection. When they broke apart, she dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief before offering it to Anne so she could do the same.

“Now,” Marilla reasoned, her voice returning to its typical no-nonsense tone, “it won’t do either of us any good to go downstairs with bright red eyes.” Anne couldn’t help but chuckle at how practical Marilla remained, even on the most emotional of days. It was as though she hadn’t been crying herself mere moments before. Soon, both women were laughing uncontrollably.

Once they had calmed down, Marilla returned to adjusting the sash of Anne’s dress and positioning her veil. When she finished, she encouraged Anne to look in the mirror claiming that one’s wedding day was a valid reason to fixate on vanity.

A wave of emotions came crashing over Anne as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Where a scrawny young girl with flaming red hair and far too many freckles to count once stood was a beautiful young woman. Still graced with a smattering of freckles, many had faded with age as her hair had darkened into a light auburn which complemented her creamy complexion. The cream satin dress with an ivory lace overlay outlined her slender figure, the sash highlighting her impossibly tiny waist. The pale pink of the apple blossoms Dora had woven into her hair accentuated its brilliant colour.

The image before Anne was not one she had ever imagined for herself. As a young child, she had dared to dream of princes and castles. Her wedding would be a grand affair and she’d wear a lavish ballgown on the day she became Princess Cordelia. When she was deemed old enough to go into service, the young orphan continued to dream, but the harsh reality of drunken deadbeat husbands and fathers—such as Mr. Hammond—threatened her optimism. Starved of the love and affection desired by all children, Anne turned to novels. If she were lucky, she would have a tragical romance before resigning herself to life as an old maid. If Green Gables was the epitome of her dreams, the unconditional love she found there was far beyond. Still, Anne never imagined that she would receive a single marriage proposal, let alone six!

Without the veil, Anne looked like the beautiful debutantes she once envied, the high society women whom she and Diana often pretended to be over tea parties in their girlhood days. With it however… “I look like a bride,” Anne breathed.

“Well, I would hope so,” the soft voice of her bosom friend coaxed Anne back to reality. “It is your wedding day, after all!”

Anne turned, her face lighting up at the sight of her first true companion who, despite the loose-fitting frock she wore to accommodate her growing belly, looked as demure and elegant as ever. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe! You should be resting at home.”

Diana chuckled, stepping toward Anne and pulling her into a hug. “Anne, you couldn’t think I’d ever possibly miss your wedding. And to Gilbert Blythe at that! I’ve been waiting for this day since…how many years has it been since you hit him with your slate?”

“Nearly thirteen years.” Anne smiled at the memory. “I love you dearly and I’m so happy that you’re here, but I’ll never forgive myself if you catch that influenza after today.”

Diana waved Anne’s comment off. “I’ll be just fine. If anything, this little one is what’s going to be wreaking havoc on my body. The nausea’s only just settled down.” She shrugged as Anne grimaced. “There’s another reason why I’m here though,” she added, causing Anne to raise an eyebrow curiously.

“Oh?”

“Marilla said someone needed to speak with you about your wedding night.”

“What about it?”

“Well, erm…” Diana began, clearly uncomfortable to be discussing such intimate matters. “Before you go to sleep tonight, Gilbert’s going to expect you to perform—er—wifely duties.”

“Oh, is that all?” asked Anne, chuckling lightly.

“Is that all?!” Diana echoed. “Do you know what that means?” The pale woman’s face turned beet red, a mixture of shock and embarrassment etched into her expression, the sight causing Anne to burst out into peals of laughter.

“Di, I’m so very sorry. You must think me a horrid friend for laughing at you while you’re merely trying to help me at your own expense. I’ll spare you further distress though by assuring you that I know exactly what to expect.” Anne clasped her dear bosom friend’s hand in both of hers, attempting to provide comfort. “You’ve met my former roommate at Redmond, Phil Gordon—well, it’s Phil Blake now. She’s so many brilliantly wonderful things, but a closed book is not one of them. The first letter she sent me after she married her Jonas spared no detail.”

Diana gasped. She never would have imagined discussing the more private matters of her marriage with anyone, not even her closest childhood companion had Marilla not asked her to spare Anne the embarrassment and frustration of learning such sensitive information from Mrs. Lynde.

“Oh Diana, I’m sure you can imagine the discomfiture I experienced after I made the mistake of opening that letter during breakfast! I was so worried that Mrs. Lynde—or worse, one of the twins—might somehow come across it that I tore it up and tossed it into the stove fire immediately.”

“Personally, I think Mrs. Lynde would have been worse,” Diana teased, feeling a bit lighter.

“I suppose she would have been _safer_ than if Davy had read it and she or Marilla found out. But she would have given me a long lecture about propriety…and I probably would not have been able to spend a moment alone with Gilbert after I accepted his proposal,” Anne agreed.

“Do you—uh—have any questions?” asked Diana cautiously, supposing she could afford to answer a question or two since Philippa Blake had spared her from the brunt of the task Marilla had set her.

Anne blushed a pale pink as she nodded. “Phil said that it hurt quite a bit.” It wasn’t a question, but Diana knew what Anne was trying to ask.

“The first few times might, but I assure you it’s not unbearable,” Diana told her, smiling reassuringly and caressing the swell of her bump. “If it were truly painful, Fred Jr. wouldn’t be on his way to becoming a big brother. Besides, Gilbert’s nearly a doctor. If anyone knows how to make it as painless as possible, it’ll be a doctor.”

Anne smiled, nodding and breathing a sigh of relief she hadn’t been holding in. Diana was right; Gilbert wouldn’t do anything to cause her discomfort if he could avoid it. No, Anne would be alright so long as Gilbert continued to kiss her in most unsuitable places in the privacy of their home.

“Speaking of Gilbert,” Diana continued, interrupting Anne’s thoughts, “I believe he should be waiting downstairs by now. Shall I go tell everyone you’re ready.”

Anne nodded, suddenly unable to speak. She wasn’t nervous—far from it in fact, but hearing that Gilbert was waiting downstairs to marry _her_ , caused reality to strike much in the same way that her slate had once collided with his head. Before the hour was out, she would be a wife.

* * *

Everyone Anne loved best were standing in the foyer of Green Gables, but the redhead only had eyes for one person. As soon as she descended the stairs, her grey-green eyes locked on a familiar set of hazel ones which shone with love and pride for her. It was as if time came to a complete halt as Anne tried to capture the sight before her, heart-pounding as if it might burst from the overwhelming level of affection she felt for the man before her. Gilbert stood at the bottom of the stairs in his best Sunday suit, left arm extended to Anne, who accepted it gingerly, bouquet clasped firmly in her own left hand.

“Ready, Carrots?” Gilbert asked quiet enough that only she could hear. If he had called her such a name as recently as during their Redmond days, it would have enflamed her infamous temper. Today though, Anne blushed, accepting it as the term of endearment Gilbert had intended for it to be all those years ago.

“Yes,” she whispered back, never more sure of anything. Together, followed by their respective families and Diana Wright, the couple made their way to the east end of Green Gables’ orchard where the minister was waiting for them.

Anne had always envisioned a church wedding, but she couldn’t think of anything more romantic or more full-circle than being wed beneath the old Snow Queen. As she stood, hands clasped in Gilbert’s before God and their families, however, her thoughts were solely trained on him, how his hands felt warms and strong in her own, the way he towered over her ever so slightly.

Time stood still, not for the first time that day, as the couple recited their vows, Anne willing herself to commit every detail to memory as they made the ultimate promise to one another, to remain equals in life and remain perpetually devoted to each other beyond this lifetime and into the next. Anne’s hands were shaking as they exchanged their rings, but Gilbert’s firm yet gentle grasp steadied her as he slipped the emerald stone onto the same finger which bore his troth ring. The cool metal should have felt foreign against her skin, but it didn’t. Rather, it was as though it had always belonged there—it _would_ always belong on her finger, a constant reminder that she was, at long last, Mrs. Gilbert Blythe.

When the minister _finally_ pronounced them husband and wife, Gilbert cupped her cheek gently, caressing the soft skin with his thumb. The green stone of her ring glistened in the sunlight as Anne rested her hand flat against his chest, tilting her head upward at the same time Gilbert leaned down for them to capture each other’s lips in a tender kiss. Given that they had an audience, the kiss was brief. It was alright though; they had time—they had a _lifetime._ When they broke apart, Gilbert pressed his lips to the crown of Anne’s head as she nuzzled in close, neither willing to relent their closeness to one another, pulled from their embrace only by the sheer fact that they were far from alone.

In no time, the small crowd was seated around the table at Green Gables, the newlyweds at the head, feasting on a lunch carefully prepared by Marilla and Mrs. Lynde. If time had stood still during the ceremony, it had indubitably sped right up the moment Anne and Gilbert’s lips had parted and in no time, Gilbert was loading her trunk and trousseau alongside his in the back of his parents’ buggy.

“Ready, Mrs. Blythe?” he asked her, his words uncannily similar to the last thing he asked her before the ceremony. Anne thought that being called Mrs. Blythe might feel strange at first, but to hear Gilbert, to hear her _husband_ call her by her new married name was splendidly thrilling.

“I believe so, dear husband,” she replied, beaming up at him. Husband. Now that she had one, it was a term Anne decided she would never tire of using.

After exchanging tearful goodbyes and promises to write often, the new Mr. and Mrs. Blythe waved goodbye to their loved ones as they departed for Charlottetown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, this chapter was also meant to contain the wedding night, but I've restructured things a bit, so stay tuned for a wee honeymoon chapter sometime in the (hopefully) not too distant future.
> 
> Although Anne and Gilbert exchange rings in the third Sullivan film, men's wedding bands weren't common until WWII, so in the name of historical accuracy, I forewent him wearing a ring. However, it was common for women's wedding rings to contain a stone and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to incorporate that emerald ring from awae.
> 
> I owe a massive thank you to [_botanyclub_](https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanyclub) for the idea of Phil informing Anne, [_orayofsunshine_](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orayofsunshine) for reading through Diana's dialogue, and [_xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx_](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx/pseuds/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx) for being a sounding board and providing invaluable advice on structuring this chapter and the next one.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> *denotes a sentence taken from Windy Poplars


	4. Chapter 3

The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time Anne and Gilbert stepped off the train in Charlottetown. Josephine Barry had offered them full use of her guesthouse in lieu of a proper honeymoon, something which the newlywed couple had graciously accepted knowing that they would be cooped up in a small Kingsport apartment for quite some time and staying with either of their families back in Avonlea was simply out of the question.

The train car had been relatively empty, even for a quiet Wednesday afternoon, affording the couple the opportunity to sit closer together than they normally would. Anne was positively delighted when, about halfway through their journey, it struck her that she needn’t worry about judgemental stares anymore, the pair of rings on her finger permitting her to rest her head against her husband’s shoulder, fingers laced together without offending polite society.

Ever the gracious host, Aunt Jo had sent her driver to collect the newlyweds and their belongings. The guesthouse was a grandiose building by Avonlea standards, but paled in comparison to the manse it was hidden behind. Anne was completely enchanted by the deep green ivy that climbed the pale-yellow sides of the house, finding its appearance positively romantic. Aunt Jo’s driver insisted on carrying their luggage, allowing Gilbert to scoop Anne into his arms from behind, causing the young bride to shriek in surprise.

“I know this isn’t our home, but why risk our luck?” he asked Anne rhetorically as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Stepping over the threshold, Gilbert set her back on her feet, but Anne did not relinquish her hold on him, instead tugging Gilbert into a long, languid kiss, putting all the love and passion she had withheld for the sake of their audience earlier in the day. Gilbert returned the kiss with equal fervour, one arm snaking around Anne’s waist to pull her impossibly closer while the other tangled in her hair, causing a few petals to fall to the floor.

Gilbert’s body felt warm against her own as if it might ignite a fire within her as their tongues tangled together in a dance all their own. Her fingers carded through the slight curls at the nape of his neck and she continued to play with the soft hairs well after they had broken apart, heady and breathless. Anne nuzzled into the crook of Gilbert’s neck, placing featherlight butterfly kisses at the hollow of his throat—a place previously deemed most unsuitable but now (so long as they were in private), they were perceived as anything but, and her ministrations were most welcome, judging by the low, guttural moan escaping from Gilbert’s lips, the sound striking Anne’s core like a match, engulfing her body with flames of desire for him. She could feel Gilbert hard against her stomach as they stood together in the foyer for what seemed like an impossibly long time until he released his hold on her waist. The hand previously tangled in her hair found one of hers as he gently tugged her in the direction of the stairs.

“I reckon we should probably find our bedroom,” Gilbert told her, his words sounding almost like a question. Anne nodded, following his lead.

The problem with staying in an unfamiliar house was being unaware of its layout and it took several attempts of stumbling through a dark house to find the room where Rollins had dropped their luggage upon arrival.

Despite her age, Aunt Jo was quite the modern woman and had electricity installed as soon as the modern invention had become available in Charlottetown—something which benefitted the Blythes as they explored the second story of the large house. Finally, at long-last and after discovering many spectacular rooms—such as a library Anne couldn’t wait to immerse herself in—they found their belongings at the end of the long hallway. When Gilbert turned on the light, Anne took a moment to inspect their surroundings. The room was large and elegantly furnished, quite similar to the palatial bedchamber she had once envisioned for Princess Cordelia. Large windows adorned one wall, complete with a quaint sitting area—a reading nook, Anne realised when she saw the shelves beneath the window seat—and there was an en-suite washroom and separate dressing rooms at one end. What managed to truly capture Anne’s attention, however, was the large four-poster bed centred against the wall opposite the windows. A deep purple quilt covered the mattress and innumerable plush pillows in matching lilac cases sat atop the four-poster, sheer gold curtains tied to the posts. Gilbert’s hand was still warm in Anne’s, and suddenly she felt her stomach drop, the reality of what they were about to do finally sinking in, kicking her nerves into hyperdrive.

“Is everything alright, Anne-girl? You’re trembling.” Was she? Anne had not noticed until Gilbert spoke of it, his voice dripping with concern. One look into his eyes was all it took to calm her down, the love and concern in his expression enough to nearly dissipate most of her worries.

Not for the first time that day, Anne was positively overwhelmed by the outpouring of love she felt for that man. Smiling, Anne answered, “I’ve never been better.” She paused, watching as Gilbert’s expression turned from concern to relief before stepping around him to turn off the light, allowing the glow of the moon outside to illuminate their silhouettes before stepping toward Gilbert, keeping her back to him. “Now, I’ve been wearing this dress all day and I’d like nothing more than for my husband to help me out of it.”

Gilbert needed no further invitation. “As you wish,” he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down Anne’s spine as his fingers found the first button at the nape of her neck. His breath was hot against her sensitive skin, evoking gooseflesh as he trailed kisses down her spine as each button came undone until the dress fell in a pool of lace and satin around her feet.

Once her corset had joined the dress on the floor, Anne turned to face Gilbert. As his hands circled her impossibly tiny waist, Anne tilted her head upward to press a few light kisses to his jawline. This was not the first time she had kissed him in such manner, but everything else felt so new and Anne was simply starved for some sense of familiarity while she undid the buttons of his shirt with nervous, shaky fingers.

One moment they were standing in their under things and the next, they were as bare as the day they were born. Anne drank in the sight before her cautiously eyeing the tall, muscular figure before her, whose gaze was already exploring her body. He knew the rest of her so well; how she wasn’t a morning person, but preferred sunrise to sunset, the way she would get so lost in literature, in her own writing, in anything and everything that struck her fancy—so much so that she often lost track of time—that her inherent kindness and compassion meant she would drop everything to help anyone in need. But now based on the look in his eyes, it was as though he were discovering a whole new facet of her. She was a dryad, beautiful and enchanting as the moonbeams illuminated her creamy skin, and he ached with desire, to touch her, to feel the warmth of her body and know that she was real. 

The way Gilbert was looking at her with such longing and adoration was something straight out of a great romance novel. Anne had always thought that she would feel nervous, or perhaps ashamed, for _anyone_ to see her like this; small, bony frame smattered in a galaxy of freckles that danced across her shoulders. But as Gilbert drew her into his arms—his strong, slightly tan arms which had not lost much muscle tone during his years of schooling, Anne noted—she felt many things, but embarrassment was none of them. Love and adoration were woven with trust as she nodded and gave him a hard, blazing look that was dripping with consent to touch her. Calloused fingertips caressed the smooth expanse of her arms, ghosting down her sides until they settled on her hips. As Gilbert captured her lips in a kiss which rivalled the one they had exchanged downstairs, Anne felt electricity coursing through her veins, surging toward her very core. The warmth of skin-to-skin contact heightened Anne’s senses as the feel of Gilbert’s lips on hers, his hand caressing the swell of her breast, his length pressed hard against her stomach were all consuming.

Gently, Gilbert guided Anne backward, lips still fused together, until the back of her legs collided with the side of the bed. They broke apart ever so briefly as they resituated in the centre of the bed and then Gilbert was everywhere. The weight of his body hovering over her was enticing as they resumed their previous ministrations, tongues tangled together in a battle of give-and-take. After two years of sneaking private moments in the limited time they had together, neither was a stranger to bestowing affection, but this heightened intimacy was different, this was _more._ “Is this okay?” Gilbert asked, eyes boring into Anne’s.

“Yes,” she half whispered, half moaned, pleading with Gilbert to continue, which he did fervently. 

Anne’s nerve endings were on fire as Gilbert trailed kisses down her neck, tenderly sucking at her pulse point, eliciting a breathy moan from the redhead. Again, Anne’s hands tangled in his curls, grounding her. Gilbert took his time exploring her freckled skin, lavishing her breasts with attention, trailing kisses down to her navel and back up again, enflaming the fire radiating from her core.

Anne had always been enamoured by the gold-speckled hazel orbs that were locked onto her grey-green ones, but this time, the darkness of his lust blown pupils engulfed her and she wanted—no— _needed_ more. After everything their love had endured, years of foolishness on her part, all the pining, a long engagement spent living provinces apart; Anne felt as though she might burst with want for him. Like with most things Anne-related, Gilbert was on the same wavelength as his hands travelled down her sides, moving dangerously toward where she needed him most.

His voice low and husky, dripping with lust, he asked for yet the third time that day, “Ready?” his tone shooting straight to Anne’s core. Yet again, Anne nodded, needing to become one with him so much more than she ever thought possible.

Wasting absolutely no time, Gilbert lined himself up with Anne’s centre and pressed his length into her until he was fully sheathed. Lost in the throes of passion, Anne had completely forgotten about the pain both Phil and Diana warned her of. As a sharp pain radiated from her centre, Anne let out a piercing cry, causing Gilbert to halt his movement. “Do you need me to stop? We don’t have to…” The look in his eyes was so sincere, but the strangulated tone of his voice told Anne that he wanted nothing more than for them to continue. What sort of wife would she be if she couldn’t get through the first day without disappointing her husband? If she had to endure a bit of pain to keep him happy, that’s what she would do.

“Keep going,” she breathed, pressing her face against his shoulder to mask her insincere expression.

As he began to move, Anne let out a muffled whimper, which Gilbert must have mistaken for a moan of pleasure and an invitation to begin thrusting against her. A few short minutes later, just as the pain was beginning to subside and Anne started to get used to the fullness of having Gilbert inside her, he froze. Collapsing on top of Anne and panting against her neck, he spilled into her before she truly had a chance to enjoy the feel of their bodies joining together just as their hearts had always been. 

Anne couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed at the loss as Gilbert rolled off of her, encouraging Anne to cuddle against his side. Despite the initial pain, Anne wanted more, but could tell by his contented sigh that Gilbert was spent.

“That was simply incredible, wasn’t it, Anne-girl?” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

_No,_ Anne thought, her body still sore from the intrusion and dissatisfied by the lack of climax, but she couldn’t tell him that, not when he sounded so happy and quite proud of himself. Instead, she answered by humming in agreement, cuddling closer still. Although not thoroughly satisfied, Anne still felt an immense outpouring of love for her new husband.

“To quote one of my favourite letters of yours, I happen to find myself most scandalously in love with you, _wife_ ,” he told her, his town sleepy but full of joy, causing Anne’s heart to melt.

“I love you too,” she breathed, kissing his shoulder before nuzzling into Gilbert’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent as she joined him in drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The soft glow of morning was leaking through the windows when Anne awoke the next morning, confused and disoriented at first as she glanced around the unfamiliar room, still enveloped in a sleepy haze. Her body was stiff and sore, alerting her mind to the previous night’s activities, and suddenly the memories came flooding back to her, causing Anne to remove her left arm from the warm confines of the purple quilt. As the sunlight caught the emerald stone of her wedding band, Anne grinned, elated that she hadn’t imagined a single thing. She was Anne Blythe now, and would be for the remainder of her lifetime.

The space beside her was empty, but still warm, Anne noted, which meant that Gilbert must not have been gone for too long, though Anne found herself missing him, wishing that she could revel in her first morning as a married woman alongside her husband.

Just as Anne was debating locating her dressing gown to search the house for her husband, the man in question stepped through the door, a tray of tea and pastries in his hands. Standing before her in nothing more than his drawers, Anne was able to fully appreciate the physique that was masked in the darkness last night, grinning at Gilbert as he walked toward her, their eyes finding one another’s.

“You’re awake!” Gilbert noted, probably more excited than he should have been. “I was hoping you’d still be asleep when I came back with our breakfast,” he told her, setting the tray on his nightstand briefly as he reclaimed the space beside her, leaning over to press a light kiss to her cheek.

“I’ve only just woken. I think I had half convinced myself that this was all some far-fetched dream and was just about to go looking for you to confirm that my suspicions were false.”

Gilbert chuckled lightly, reaching for the tray and carefully balancing it on his lap. “I can assure you that this is very real, Mrs. Blythe.” His use of her new, married name caused Anne to blush pink. “Though I’d be happy to convince you otherwise…”

“As much as I know you’d like that, I’m afraid I might be a bit too sore still,” she told him sadly.

Gilbert grimaced apologetically. “Well then, I suppose we should enjoy this spread of pastries Ms. Barry’s butler delivered this morning and then we can figure out what we’d like to do today.”

“It’s Aunt Jo,” Anne corrected him. “She says Ms. Barry is so impersonal. She’ll be so pleased if you call her Aunt Jo should we encounter her during our time here.” Anne helped herself to a pair of chocolate croissants and the paler cup of tea, smiling to herself over the fact that Gilbert knew exactly how she took her tea, with twice the milk and half the sugar that he preferred.

“Regardless, it was mighty kind of her to offer this place to us. I hope she doesn’t think we’re taking advantage of her generosity,” Gilbert told her between bites of his pain au raisin.

“Josephine Barry has more money and land than she knows what to do with,” Anne laughed. “She’s told me so on multiple occasions. She even proclaimed over tea one afternoon that she would have insisted I board with her when we were at Queens had campus not been so far away. I know in my heart of hearts that she was positively delighted to offer use of this house to us.”

“Well if you’re sure…”

“I am.” And with that, the conversation came to a halt. The two continued their small feast in companionable silence, content to sip their tea and enjoy each other’s company under the soft glow of the sun filtering in through the tall windows.

When they had finally had their fill and the tray was safely resting on the night stand once again, Anne curled into Gilbert, wanting to feel as close to him as she had the night before. Gilbert happily obliged, eager to feel her soft skin against his own yet again. There was nothing sensual about their actions, but as Gilbert’s arms wrapped tightly around her bare back, their chests pressed together as Anne buried her face in the crook of his neck, she realised that she had never felt more safe than when she was in his arms, entrapped in a protective bubble fortified by the love and trust they shared for one another.

It could have been a few short minutes or several hours that they laid together. Anne was half asleep, dosing against Gilbert’s chest when he spoke, pulling her from her mind back to reality. “We should probably leave this bed at some point,” he mused, pressing a kiss to Anne’s hair.

Anne hummed in agreement, hopeful that her lack of words would convince him to join her in taking a morning nap. However, it appeared that Gilbert wasn’t having any of it.

“Come on, Anne-girl, there must be something you’d rather do than sleep the day away. I could draw you a bath,” he suggested. “Would you like that?”

Anne thought for a moment. Her body was quite achy after all, and a bath would be nice. However, that would mean leaving the warmth of this bed, the warmth of Gilbert, and Anne wasn’t quite sure that was something she’d like to do. “I suppose a bath would be nice,” she mused, knowing that her husband would not relent until she agreed with him on something to do.

Gilbert jumped up. “I’ll go draw you a bath then,” he told her, making his way toward the en-suite.

“Gilbert, no...you really don’t have to,” Anne called after him. “I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself.”

Gilbert paused, chuckling. “I know you are, Anne-girl, but let me take care of you. _Please._ ” His eyes were pleading with her as much as his words, softening Anne instantly, so it took very little convincing on his part to get her to relent. 

“Alright,” she acquiesced with a sigh, listening as Gilbert fumbled with the taps in the next room and taking the opportunity to locate her dressing gown which had somehow wound up at the very bottom of her trunk. With the garment wrapped around her, Anne joined Gilbert in the washroom where he was just shutting off the taps.

“I think the temperature should be good, but let me know what you think and I can adjust it,” he told Anne, who dipped her fingers beneath the surface. It was slightly warmer than she preferred, but knowing how quickly the water would cool, Anne decided that it would do just fine and told Gilbert such.

“I’ll just be in the library,” Gilbert told her as she made to remove her dressing gown. “I should probably try to do a little bit of studying whenever I can so that I’m not behind when we return to Kingsport.” 

Anne’s face fell, disappointed, slowly glancing back and forth between her husband and the tub. It was large, large enough for both of them in fact, and Anne had just been thinking that it might be a lovely idea for them to soak together.

“What’s the matter?” asked Gilbert, picking up on her crestfallen look immediately.

“I was just thinking it might be nice if you joined me.” The pink of her cheeks darkened to match her hair. “Nevermind though, it was a silly idea.”

“It’s not silly at all. I just thought you wanted a bit of space.”

“From you?” Anne looked him square in the eye. “Never.”

And so the pair spent their first morning as a married couple, relaxing together, talking about everything and nothing. It was the first of many mornings—a whole lifetime of them—Anne realised, where they were free to get lost in one another without the pressure of society, propriety, or Mrs. Lynde refusing them the privacy to have such tender moments. Heck, although they were married now, Anne was certain Mrs. Lynde would have a few choice words for her if she knew that Anne was seated between Gilbert’s legs as the man in question gently massaged her scalp, still sore from the abundance of extra pins Dora had used to maintain her style. The woman would be positively scandalised, though Anne couldn’t find it in herself to care. Rather, she chose to close her eyes and tilt her head back against Gilbert’s chest, focusing on the vast abundance of love she felt for him.

* * *

By their second week staying in Charlottetown, the Blythes settled into a routine. Anne would wake up, sometimes with Gilbert, other times to find his side of the bed empty. On those particular mornings, Gilbert would return with a tray of fresh pastries sent over from the main house that they would enjoy in bed before dressing for the day.

They would spend their days in the library, lounging together on the sofa, with a novel which they took turns reading aloud. After lunch, Gilbert tried to spend at least a few hours studying his medical textbooks. Anne would take that opportunity to write—letters, poetry, short stories; whatever struck her fancy. Together, they would prepare dinner, Anne often tasking Gilbert with chopping vegetables or stirring lest his culinary ineptitudes ruin their meal. Afterward, they would ramble through Aunt Jo’s expansive gardens, enjoying the plethora of flowers in full summer bloom before retiring to their bedroom for the evening.

Most nights were spent similarly to their first, exchanging languid kisses, caressing each other’s skin in ways they had only once imagined. It was in these moments that Anne felt closest to Gilbert. Since slipping that second ring on her finger, they had spent near every moment in each other’s company, talking about anything and everything, but at night? Their actions sparked a different sort of conversation, their unspoken words palpable in the soft glow of the moonlight through passionate kisses and lingering touches. The act itself no longer brought Anne pain, but it didn’t exactly bring her pleasure either, not to the great heights that Gilbert seemed to experience each time (although his stamina was certainly improving). Nevertheless, Gilbert always seemed so content after spilling inside her that Anne simply didn’t have the heart to tell him that her own experience was still lacking.

In their brief time sharing a bed, Anne had already acclimated herself to Gilbert’s sleeping habits, the way his breathing evened out into steady puffs against the back of her neck, the rise and fall of his chest against her back. She usually followed suit in succumbing to sleep most evenings, but tonight, she was plagued with insomnia laced with sexual frustration. When Phil had first told her about how she could make herself feel good, back in that first year living at Patty’s Place, Anne had been hesitant, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Nevertheless, she had tried her best to refrain from massaging the small nub above her slit, save a few occasions in her tower room at Windy Poplars, following particularly romantic letters from Gil which left the burning between her thighs most unbearable and she had promised herself that she would never do it again once she was officially wed. But now, twelve days into her marriage, the desire for release had become so agonising that Anne felt she was left with no choice but to wait until she was certain her husband was sound asleep, before she dropped a hand between her legs.

Her ministrations were slow at first as she reacquainted herself with the familiar bundle of nerves, but she soon quickened her pace. Anne could feel her release building much like it had earlier, only this time, she was able to work through the barrier that Gilbert had so far failed to shatter. As she brought herself closer to the brink, Anne was powerless in preventing the shockwave that caused her entire body to spasm, drawing out a loud moan in the process. She was so caught up in the pleasure that she was inflicting upon herself, that she failed to notice that her actions had awoken her husband until she felt the cool air against her back as Gilbert shifted positions behind her.

“Anne?” he questioned, his voice sleepy, yet alert somehow. “A-are you alright?”

Anne flinched, startled, but kept her hand where it had been before. “I’m fine, Gil, you can go back to sleep,” she told him, voice gentle, silently begging him to spare her humiliation. Unfortunately for Anne, Gilbert was having none of that. Instead, he sat upright, looking at her with the same sense of alarm that had drawn him from slumber. Worse yet, the positioning of her hand failed to escape his attention.

“What are you doing, Anne?” She could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks as he looked at her in panic and she knew that there was no escaping the awkward situation that she had created for them both. “Don’t you know how _wrong_ that is?” There was a hint of worry in his voice, which matched the very look in his eyes, Anne noted as she rolled over to face him.

“I just needed…” she trailed off. How could she answer him? How could she possibly tell Gilbert that he wasn’t satisfying her in the same way she clearly did him? Surely he would find fault in her as a wife then, and the very last thing Anne ever wanted was for Gilbert to regret her.

“Needed what?” he asked, causing Anne to sigh deeply. There was no turning back now, and she could only hope that Gilbert wouldn’t be too cross with her.

"Look, Dearest,” her voice was soft as she tried her very best to muster every ounce of tenderness she possessed into her words, hopeful that what she was about to tell him wouldn’t cause Gilbert too much strife. “I love what we do, and it does feel good. This new level of intimacy is indescribable, Gil, but when you finish, I'm just not _there_ yet."

“What do you mean?” A hint of confusion crept into his sleep-addled voice.

"Things are still building when you spill inside me and then you just...stop," she trailed off, voice falling quieter with each word, trying to ignore the pangs in her chest caused by Gilbert's crestfallen expression. "That's why I was...you know..." she adds meekly.

“I thought you enjoyed it, you _told_ me you did.” His voice was laced with hurt as Anne shifted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes for fear that the disappointment so evident in his words might pierce her heart.

“I said no such thing, Gil.”

“You did though! When I asked, you told me it was incredible...”

“ _No,_ you asked if I thought it was incredible. _I_ mumbled something along the lines of 'hmmm' because you seemed so happy and I didn't want to disappoint you. To be honest, I was finally getting used to the pain and then you just...stopped.” Anne's voice was firm this time, reminiscent of when they used to argue in school, her words forming an armour around her. She knew she was hurting him, and she hated herself for it. She was about to roll over, use her back to create a physical shield when Gilbert spoke again, shattering all of her defences.

“You were in pain?” The strangulated tone nearly brought tears to her eyes. This right here was precisely why Anne had failed to broach the subject with him. “Have I been hurting you this whole time?” His eyes were glassy, and it was all Anne could do not to cling to him and lie yet again.

“Just the first time, but Phil and Diana had warned me that it probably would. If it were unbearable, truly unbearable, don't you think I would tell you?”

“Why didn't you tell me you hated it?”

“Because I _didn't_ hate it!” she cried in exasperation. “I love you, Gil, so much that I don't know what I'll do if I ever disappoint you as a wife. I've never felt closer to anyone than I do you, especially when we're laying together, your bare skin against mine. You make me feel so safe and loved, so much more than I ever thought I would be.”

Gilbert's expression softened and reached a hand out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away stray tears that she hadn't been aware of. “You could never disappoint me, Anne-girl,” he replied gently. “And you deserve to be loved. You bring so much good to this world, so much joy and I sometimes fear that you don’t realise how truly wonderful you are. I won’t lie and say you haven’t disappointed me in the past—each rejection positively crushed me—but the disappointment was in thinking that you would never feel a fraction of the affection I feel for you.”

“Really?” Anne hated how small her voice sounded, how weak she must have come across and for a moment, she was brought back to the days of her youth, before Green Gables, when expressing emotion often meant harsh punishment and ridicule.

“Never, Anne-girl.” Gilbert nearly broke at the sight of her, so clearly afraid that he would come to regret their union. In the morning, they would have a long talk to address her fears, but for now, there was another pressing matter at the forefront of Gilbert’s mind which, as a concerned medical student, he could not let slide.

“Now, we should probably talk about what you were just doing...we only studied the topic briefly, but masturbation—that's the medical term for, um, pleasuring yourself—is quite bad for your health, dear." His voice was awkward and strangulated.

"But it feels so incredible, Gil...the buildup is almost as splendid as when you caress my skin—"

"—But it's _wrong_ , Anne," Gilbert interrupted firmly.

“The release is the only thing lacking from what _we_ do," Anne countered, suddenly sparked by an idea. "Would it be so wrong if it were you touching me there?" she asked innocently, causing Gilbert to gasp and stammer.

He should have known better than to be shocked by the question, but Anne was a spitfire, always had been, and the fact that she constantly found new ways to surprise him was just one of the many things Gilbert loved about her. "I...uh...don't suppose it would be a bad idea, but—" before he could get the rest of the words out, Anne was taking the hand still pressed to her cheek and guiding it lower to the where her centre was beginning to ache for him.

"Anne, what are you..?" She kept her grip on the back of his hand firm, dragging it lower and lower, brushing over her dusty auburn curls until his fingertips made contact with the small nub above her slit. "Here," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Keep applying pressure, but try moving your fingertip in small circles," she guided him, releasing her grip now that he was touching her where she wanted him most.

Hesitantly, Gilbert followed her lead, pressing the tip of his long, calloused index finger to Anne's clit, rubbing gently. Anne drew a sharp breath, gasping at the contact. It felt different from her own fingers, _better_ , if Anne was completely honest with herself. "You can go a bit faster if you like," she instructed. Ever the excellent student, Gilbert did exactly what he was told, eliciting a sharp moan from her, which caused Gilbert to retract his hand immediately, scooting backward in the bed to give Anne, who whimpered at the lack of contact, space.

"I'm sorry, Anne-girl, I didn't mean to hurt you," he apologised quickly. In any other situation, Anne would have chuckled, but after the conversation they had, after Gilbert had mistaken her cry of pain for one of pleasure before, it only made sense that he would worry now. "That didn't hurt at all, Gil," she breathed. "Quite the opposite, actually."

"Oh?" he raised a brow, moving back toward her, tentatively moving his hand back to her most sensitive spot.

"Oh," echoed Anne, moaning at the contact. "You could try, erm, slipping a finger inside, but it might be a bit messy." Gilbert's length twitched against her thigh, sending jolts straight to her centre. "Or," she suggested, "maybe something else?"

Not needing to be told again, Gilbert rolled them over, straddling her hips. Anne could feel his hardness bob against her stomach. This time she was eager for it, hopeful that she would finally reach her peak before Gilbert was spent and snoring against her side.

This time, when Gilbert slipped inside her, Anne was eager for him to move, so long as he continued massaging her clit, which he did with fervour. Gilbert didn’t last long, but it didn’t matter, for Anne reached her climax before him, crying out against his shoulder as she clenched around his length, milking his seed from him. Nothing she had ever experienced before compared to the raw ecstasy that wracked her body in those fleeting moments.

Once Gilbert had softened, had rolled off of her and she was snuggled soundly against his chest, Anne was certain that she never wanted to be anywhere else. Gilbert was her home, warm and inviting, safe and secure—and an incredibly quick learner, thank goodness! 

Anne felt like she was floating, drifting between sleep and consciousness when Gilbert spoke. “Was it good for you this time, Anne-girl?” he asked, the dulcet tone of his voice soothing Anne, who was so very close to sleep. It took all the energy she had to hum her agreement against his chest.

“Please, Anne-girl, I need you to use your words this time. I _need_ to know if it was as good for you as it was for me.”

Anne smiled against his chest, heart fluttering at the concern Gilbert was expressing despite the hint of exhaustion in his words. Oh how she loved this man! Resting her chin against his chest so that she could look up at him, could impress the truth upon him with no hint of miscommunication.

“I have no words, Gil. That was truly...indescribable.” Sighing peacefully, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Gilbert chuckled, dropping a kiss to her auburn tresses.

“Good indescribable? Bad?” There was a hint of pleading in his tone as he begged for some sort of affirmation that Anne was just as sated this time around as he was.

“Good. Very, _very_ good,” she mumbled, “best yet.”

“Best yet indeed,” Gilbert agreed with her, but Anne had already teetered over the brink of consciousness and was sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love Victorian/Edwardian social constructs?
> 
> Massive thank you to [_orayofsunshine_](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orayofsunshine) for giving my first draft a sound readthrough and to [_lydiastxles_](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiastxles), who let me write 1000 words of dialogue in her messages. Fer, you've unofficially become the beta I never knew I needed, so thank you! Thank you to the rest of my pals at the Storybook Club (you know who you are) for putting up with all my dumb questions and rambling about this one.
> 
> Parts of this chapter were really tricky for me to write and I would be so grateful if you could drop me a comment and let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 4

The September air was crisp, cool enough to paint a rosy glow across Anne’s cheeks as the wind rushed across the deck of the ferry as it crossed the Northumberland Strait. The journey between Charlottetown and Kingsport was long and tiresome, perhaps the one thing Anne had consistently dreaded throughout her time as a student of Redmond. However, while the voyage remained uncomfortably arduous, Gilbert’s presence beside her was comforting, a constant reminder that they were writing their story together now. The tale of Anne of Green Gables had ended the moment she descended those creaky stairs as a bride. Their wedding and subsequent weeks spent in their own little bubble formed a prologue, and a happy one at that. As they began to write this next chapter, Anne’s only hope was that their tome would be filled with more joy than sorrow and that the pages would not be marred with tragedy.

The remainder of their time in Josephine Barry’s Charlottetown guesthouse had been a pleasant reprieve from the daily reports of death and despair as the number of flu cases continued to rise and the Great War slogged on. In the confines of the ivy-covered yellow house, it was all too easy to get lost in their own little world as they fully acquainted themselves with one another in ways that old school chums or a courting couple could never. As the world seemingly burned around them, the Blythes remained ensconced in their newlywed bubble, but as all bubbles are prone to do, it was inevitably popped by the thorns of the impending school year, and so Anne and Gilbert bid farewell to their little sanctuary one early September morning, just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

Anne spent the first leg of their journey tucked into Gilbert’s side, dosing with her head against his shoulder while he poured through the lightest of his textbooks. However, by the time they boarded the ferry, the midmorning sun was bright, and the redhead was alert as ever, insisting that they stand as close to the front railing as possible. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Anne had asked Gilbert, a mischievous gleam in her eye, the very same one that had captivated him on her very first day of school.

“It looks like I married her,” Gilbert replied, teasing as Anne tugged him by the hand toward the bow.

Despite the wind whipping around them, the salty air was liberating. The seas could easily swallow the small passenger vessel, they held no obligation to the whims of man. Gilbert had found his passage delayed as often as not, angry waves threatening to swallow anyone foolish enough to dare cross its path. However, on this particular morning, the waters whispered to one another calmly, which meant that the Blythes would most certainly reach their new home before nightfall.

Anne’s knuckles were white as she gripped the railing, keeping steady despite the sway of the ship, back pressed against Gilbert’s chest as they looked out over the water. It was a clear day, the shores of Nova Scotia clear in the distance, beckoning them. Anne could only hope that she would find their new home as welcoming as the ones they had both left behind.

They stood silent, observing the beauty before them for a while and Anne eagerly drank in the inspiration for numerous stories she might one day write. “Tell me about our apartment again, Gil,” she beseeched her husband after a while, thoughts incapable of fully straying from the somewhat mysterious destination.

“All I know is that it’s on the second floor of a brick building on Beech Street, nearly halfway between the hospital and Redmond, not too far from that park you used to read in, you know the one...” The one where she had refused Gilbert’s first proposal, where she had broken his heart. That detail was not lost on Anne as she vowed to do whatever she could to ensure Gilbert never felt that way because of her again, twisting to press a tender kiss to his jaw, silently conveying her love and regret.

“That all sounds lovely but tell me about  _ our  _ home. Will there be scope for the imagination?”

“I think it’ll be quite small, but we don’t need a lot of space. Your astonishing mind has a remarkable way of finding beauty in even the most mundane of things though, so I imagine you’ll adore it regardless.” He pressed a kiss against her hair. “You’ll have to be especially careful to steer clear of others once we’re in Kingsport, but I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to spend many a day writing amongst the trees as I know you’re wont to do.”

Warmth flooded Anne’s chest at those words. Not only did Gilbert know her so well, he understood how viscerally her soul needed to be surrounded by nature that he would encourage her to visit the very orchard where she had left him devastated many moons ago.

“Perhaps you’ll join me then, when you’re not inundated with work at the hospital? Might we create new memories there? Happier ones?” Anne was already imagining the two of them sat beneath her favourite tree, Gilbert studying medical cases whilst she penned a near tragical romance of a jilted suitor whose feelings were only requited as he lay dying.

Gilbert chuckled. “I like the sound of that. Though I certainly hope we have a rather warm autumn this year then. I suppose we’ll both need the fresh air.”

The rest of their journey was uneventful. The ferry was docked and unloaded with plenty of time to spare before their final train departed for Kingsport and it was nearing dusk by the time the taxi dropped them in front of a tall building of ruddy brick. It was no magnificent affair like Josephine Barry’s manse, nor a thing of beauty like Windy Poplars, nor a charming cottage by the sea. Its appearance leant nothing to the realm of fairyland, but Anne knew better than most not to judge a thing based on first impressions, so she did her best to keep an open mind and insisted on lugging her trunk up the narrow steps—much to Gilbert’s chagrin—eager to see what their new home had to offer.

The only thing stopping her from tearing the door open for herself was the fact that the door was locked, both sets of keys secure in Gilbert’s trouser pocket. Realistically, Anne knew that it took her husband less than two minutes to haul the heaviest of their trunks onto the landing, but it seemed like much longer as she imagined all of the possibilities awaiting on the other side of the door.

“Finally!”

Gilbert set the trunk to the ground with a heavy sigh, trying his best not to laugh at Anne’s impatience and fished the keys out of his pocket. “Will you stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” asked Anne innocently.

“Like if I don’t unlock this door fast enough, you’ll break the door down.” His tone was light, joking, as he jiggled the key in the lock, turning it until there was an audible ‘click,’ and he was able to turn the doorknob. He turned to face Anne, blocking the door with his body.

“Sorry, I jus—” Anne began to apologise, but was quickly cut off as Gilbert lifted her into his arms, just as he had on their wedding day. “Gil, you already did this!” she laughed, but humoured him, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck, her other hand resting on his shoulder.

“But this is  _ our _ home, and I refuse to entertain the idea of welcoming bad luck into it all because we broke tradition.”

Anne rolled her eyes, trying to feign annoyance as she melted into him. Grey-green bore into hazel as she raised a brow. “Does that mean you’ll be carrying me across the threshold of any future homes we create together?”

“If I’m lucky enough to go through life with you by my side, I can assure you that indeed I will, Anne-girl.” His voice softened as his lips uttered the name reserved for him alone. “Now, are you ready to see our first home?”

“Please.”

Carefully, Gilbert nudged the door open and stepped into a modestly sized sitting room. He made to kiss Anne, but she dodged his lips artfully, preoccupied with their new surroundings. Gilbert shook his head. There was no use trying to sway Anne when she was determined to do something, so with a sigh, he set her on her feet, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and muttering a quick, “I’ll just bring our things in.”

Anne was not sure what she had been expecting. Like Gilbert had suspected, the apartment was on the smaller side, but Anne was certain that it would suit them well. Light filtered in through tall windows overlooking a small park, providing an astonishing view of treetops, the earliest hints of reds, oranges, and yellows hiding amongst the evergreen. Anne could already imagine herself wrapped in a blanket, fireplace roaring as she sat on the cushion beneath the window, penning odes to the natural beauty below. The sitting room furniture looked worn, a plush armchair and a sofa that was likely second-hand filled the small space, and a small desk was crammed into a corner. Perhaps Anne’s favourite thing about the room—after the window seat—was the tall bookshelf, waiting to be filled with the couple’s eclectic collection of textbooks, poetry, and novels.

The adjoining kitchen was rather modern in comparison to Green Gables,’ complete with an icebox and a large stove that Anne couldn’t wait to put to use, though it didn’t hold the same thrill as the sitting room—which she Anne was already beginning to suspect would become her favourite room. A quick glance into the bathroom revealed a clawfoot tub, but Anne was more interested in finding their bedroom.

Double windows looked out onto the street below, a double-wide dresser resting below them, opposite a matching bed, an armoire tucked into the corner. It was cramped, not much larger than Anne’s former east gable room despite the larger furniture but they would make do. There was nothing overly impressive about the apartment, but it had the makings of a good home. Anne could see herself filling each room with brightly coloured flowers, winter nights spent cuddled into the armchair with Gilbert as they read poetry to each other, kept warm by a crackling fire.

The sound of solid footsteps pulled Anne from her reverie as Gilbert appeared in the doorway. “What do you think, Anne-girl? Does it meet your expectations?” he asked, setting the trunk containing Anne’s trousseau at the foot of the bed.

“It’s rather small,” Anne told him honestly, hint of a smile behind her eyes when he took a step toward her. “But, I don’t think it’s too small for the two of us. It has the makings of a good home and I think we’ll be reasonably happy here.”

“I warned you that there wouldn’t be any marble halls,” Gilbert joked sheepishly.

“And my answer hasn’t changed. There’s so much more scope for the imagination in the view outside our sitting room window than any diamond sunburst or marble hall could provide.” With a step, she closed the gap between them, stretching up to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. “Besides, what good is all that grandeur without you to share it with?”

The emotion in the room was palpable as Gilbert’s hands found her waist. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers as their eyes locked on one another. Anne’s hand rested on the sharp contour of Gilbert’s jaw and it would have been all too easy to close the lingering bit of space between them, to pour every ounce of love she had from her lips to his. They stood like that for a while, silently drinking each other in, the intimacy of the moment leaving Anne paralysed with desire. Gilbert’s breath tickled her face and her breath hitched in her throat as his lips sought hers.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Gilbert captured her mouth in a slow, searing kiss that left them both heady and breathless when they broke apart. There was still much to do before the apartment could truly feel like home, so much unpacking and decorating to do. However, as Anne nuzzled into Gilbert’s neck, all she could focus on was how much she loved him and how happy they would be in the tiny apartment on Beech Street.

* * *

_ Blythe Residence  
_ _ Beech Street  
_ _ Kingsport  
_ _ 20th September 1918  
_ __

_ Dearest Marilla, _

_ I’m so very sorry that it’s taken me so long to write you, as I have simply been so busy in the nearly three weeks since we arrived, but Gilbert and I have settled into our apartment in Kingsport quite splendidly. I spent our first weeks here unpacking our belongings, filling the pantry, and ensuring that supper was on the table shortly after Gilbert arrived home from the hospital and it was so exhausting that I was sure he would be disappointed by how tired I was by the time I finished washing up. It looks as though I’ve severely underestimated how exhausting medical school can be. Gilbert’s barely started and I’ve already left the kitchen after washing up from dinner to find him asleep in our sitting room no less than three times! I deign to think about how he would have fared living in that boarding house this year. _

_ On a completely related note, I am pleased to inform you that I rather like being a wife, or more specifically, I rather like being Gilbert’s wife. I’ve seen so many well-educated women lose their independence the moment their husband slipped a diamond on their hand with the expectation that they’ll live out their days as nothing more than a mother and housekeeper. Gilbert actively encourages me to pursue my passions…in fact, he’s quite adamant that I continue writing about whatever inspires me and has even surprised me with novels borrowed from the Redmond library. He’s so attentive and loving in ways I never conceived throughout our entire engagement, yet I don’t find myself the least bit surprised. How silly I was all those years ago to think that Roy Gardner could ever be my true romantic ideal. Had I not refused him, I am most certain I would be quite bored most days…or overwhelmed with looking after a gaggle of children. With Gilbert, every day so far has been a new adventure and I’m quite confident that we’ll parent as equals when the time comes. _

_ As for Kingsport, well, I do miss the myriad of opportunities to convene with nature. I forgot how beautiful this city is in the Fall. We have the loveliest view of the park from our sitting room window and I plan to spend many afternoons beneath those trees, drinking up every last bit of their magic before the snow sends them into a long slumber. Aside from brief and necessary trips to the market, the park is the only place Gilbert has deemed safe enough during this pandemic—that’s what the doctors are calling the influenza now—and so I try to take at least one long walk through the trees every day. On Saturday, we had the most marvellous picnic in the very orchard where Gilbert proposed during our second year of college…I’m determined to replace every ounce of hurt I caused him with happier memories and so far, we’re off to a splendid start. _

_ I think you would quite like our apartment, too. It’s very quaint, but practically so…just the right size for a childless couple. The sitting room is perfect for reading and the kitchen is magnificent! Oh, Marilla, it has one of those brand-new ice boxes that keeps everything chilled…I can already see you shaking your head over how frivolous and unnecessary such a contraption is, but I’m positive that you would find it rather useful. _

_ Happy as I have been in this new phase of my life here, I miss you and the twins (and even Rachel Lynde!) dearly. Has Davy grown an entire foot since the summer? Is Ralph Andrews still sweet on Dora? Speaking of, please do let Dora help you with your share of the household chores and in the kitchen when she offers. I say this with the utmost care, but you’re getting up there in age and I hate the idea of you overworking yourself as dear Matthew did. _

_ Please tell the others at Green Gables hello and send my regards to the Blythes next time you have tea with Gil’s mum. _

_ I miss you more than any letter could possibly say. _

_  
Sincerely yours,  
_ _ Anne Blythe _

_ P.S. Our honeymoon was absolutely lovely…Aunt Jo has the most beautiful gardens and it was wonderful to spend so much time together before Gilbert’s start of term. _

__

The rest of September—and much of October—flew by in a blur of reds, yellows, and oranges. Anne spent many an afternoon capturing the beauty of the changing world around her in sonnets and poems, getting lost amongst the trees only to find herself tangled in the leaves below. Strolling through the brisk air, it was easy to forget that the world was a rather troubled place.

Despite having ample opportunity to write freely for the first time in her life, Anne found that she missed teaching dearly some days, though the surge of joy that struck her chest each evening when she heard Gilbert’s key turn in the lock well made up for it. Her letter to Marilla contained nothing but the truth; marriage simply agreed with her. Once Gilbert had adjusted to the long, demanding days at the hospital, the young couple fell into a pleasant routine of evenings curled up on the armchair near the fire, at least one of them with a book in hand. On evenings when Gilbert was simply too tired to focus, Anne would snuggle into his side and read aloud.

It was easy to forget that the world was going to shambles most of the time, but there were nights where Gilbert returned home quiet and defeated, unable to talk after losing a patient to the flu. Of course, there were also days where he returned home elated and full of energy after a child’s fever broke, a man who was destined for death took a turn for the better, the first time he delivered a healthy set of twins. His hours at the hospital were long, but that made their time together all the more precious and Anne found the evident passion as Gilbert relayed each medical marvel with such wonder and excitement to be yet another endearing trait. Anne most looked forward to those two days each week where they were free to laze together, chilly October mornings spent wrapped in the warmth of each other.

There was no grand Thanksgiving feast to be shared with their family and friends, no leaves crunching beneath her boots on the White Way of Delight, or crisp apples from the Blythe orchard, but October in Kingsport was as magical as it was on the island in its own way and Anne found that she was very happy there. Until she wasn’t.

Perhaps it was the way November was welcomed with a week of torrential downpour, or maybe it was the snow squalls that arrived not two days later, but Anne’s mood began to mimic the bleak skies above, the very ones that were keeping her cooped up inside, the ground beneath the trees too frozen and soggy for her to spend her days sat amongst them anymore. Her time spent in solitude amongst the trees, free to wander Kingsport at her leisure, capturing whatever caught her fancy in her growing collection of poems and short stories had reached a halt in the blink of an eye. Seemingly overnight, Anne was housebound, trapped by the weather and the illness running rampant as cases continued to increase.

Although she had very limited interaction with others after they left Avonlea, Anne had been content enough with just Gilbert for company. But that was before the hospital began demanding longer days of him, requiring him to depart before sunrise only to return home with barely enough energy to eat the supper Anne had prepared before retiring to bed. He was still off twice a week, but the excitement he once exuded after a particularly successful day was gone, replaced with silent worry and exhaustion. Where Gilbert had once allowed Anne to comfort him after a particularly difficult shift, to reassure him and allow him to ease his burden, Gilbert had grown quiet and withdrawn.

Tethered to Anne’s freedom appeared to be every source of her inspiration. The trees which bore the fruit of possibility were bare and even if they weren’t, those branches were far beyond her reach. The only writing Anne found herself capable of doing during that time was regular correspondence with Green Gables and Diana.

* * *

_ Blythe Residence  
_ _ Beech Street  
_ _ Kingsport  
_ _ 4th December 1918 _

_ Darling Diana, _

_ I’m so very overjoyed at the healthy arrival of your little girl…hearing of her birth made me the happiest I have been in weeks. I wept for days after reading that you named her after me. How I wish this influenza would calm down, so I could dote on her myself, but for now all I can ask is that you love her doubly on my behalf. How is Fred Jr. taking to being a big brother? _

_ Things in Kingsport are much the same as they were last time I wrote. Gilbert is still working long days at the hospital…they’ve added a sixth day to his rota…and I’m stuck sitting at home all the while. Aside from my weekly trip to the shops (wearing a mask Gilbert brought home from the hospital), I spend my days in this tiny apartment and there’s very little to do. There’s only so much baking and mending to be done for two people. I once thought I would love to be able to spend my days reading and writing without interruption. Now that I have the opportunity, I find that I was gravely mistaken in making that wish for I am quite lonesome much of the time. Aside from my weekly letters to you and Marilla, I haven’t been able to write a thing! I sit on the cushioned bench beneath my sitting room window, pen in hand, willing myself to write but nothing comes to mind. _

_ I feel so trapped these days. Gilbert is often gone before I awake and returns home long after sundown with barely enough energy to make it through supper. I don’t regret our early nuptials in the slightest as I shudder to think how he would have fared in the boarding house with no one to care for him after a particularly tough shift. Loving him will never be a regret, though I do fear that he is beginning to resent me. Even on nights when I could tell that he was positively shattered with just one look, he remained as affectionate as ever, only recently he’s been rather distant. Just last week, he told me that we shouldn’t be intimate for a while in case there’s a chance he could expose me to the influenza and he’s halted all signs of affection since…when the most bearable part of this desolation was the warmth of his embrace. Oh, Di, I fear that Gilbert might not love me anymore! I worried I might fail at being a wife and his behaviour of late only confirms such. However, I still love him fiercely as ever and do not wish to be anywhere else for a second, though I do feel terribly guilty that I feel so lonesome and unhappy these days since the alternative would mean that Gilbert was left battling this pandemic alone. _

_ Diana, I don’t mean for this letter to be so full of gloom…especially when this is such a happy time with the arrival of small Anne Cordelia and with Christmas just around the corner. Regardless of how downtrodden I’ve been feeling, I hope this holiday season is full of nothing but joy for your family. In your next letter, you simply must tell me what Fred Jr. is requesting from Santa Claus! _

_ I miss you dearly and am praying that you recuperate quickly. _

_ Ever yours,  
_ _ Anne Blythe _

* * *

Gilbert removed his well-worn cap from his head and dusted the snow from his shoulders as soon as the door closed behind him. A snow squall had picked up not long before he began his trek home from the hospital and he was quite relieved to be protected from the elements once again though he was dreading what awaited him upstairs. Ever since the weather had begun to turn, Anne had been rather despondent, and he couldn’t help the pangs of guilt that tugged at his chest whenever he caught her staring sadly out the window or sighing in frustration as she stared at the blank pages of her notebook, willing herself to write words that simply wouldn’t come.

More than ever, Gilbert wanted to gather his wife into his arms and reassure her that her inspiration to write would someday return, but he was surrounded by sick patients every day and as the influenza outbreak continued to spread, his patients only continued to get sicker. Gilbert would never forgive himself if Anne fell ill because of him. He hated that she had sacrificed so much in their five months of marriage, but he refused to let her life join the long list of things that she had given up since moving to Kingsport.

The hospital increasing his practical hours had been both a blessing and a curse, really. To put things simply, it was much easier to abstain from showering his wife with love and affection—thus increasing her chances of contracting the flu—if he was away for most of his waking hours. However, Gilbert could see what the isolation was doing to Anne and he hated himself for subjecting her to it. Worse yet, he had just been informed that due to the overflow of patients, the services of all final year medical students would be required through the holidays. So, as Gilbert trudged slowly up the steps, he was only growing closer to informing Anne that she could add Christmas to the list of sacrifices she had already made.

The apartment was colder than Gilbert expected when he unlocked the door, the sitting room dark aside from the glowing embers inside the fireplace which looked as though it had not been tended to for hours. He could hear light movement in the kitchen and deduced that Anne must be working on their supper. When they first arrived in Kingsport, it was common for him to find Anne singing or humming to herself as she put the finishing touches on their dinner. It was just another thing to adore about her. But now, if Gilbert were to walk into an apartment full of light and song, he would be so worried, and he hated himself for that. Anne was clearly suffering and it was all his fault. Thanksgiving had already been a solemn enough affair—though Anne insisted a simple picnic and walk through the park was suitable enough for her—how was he meant to steal Christmas away?

Gilbert took his time removing his coat and shoes, hanging his snow-damp outerwear by the door before padding into the kitchen where, sure enough, Anne was stirring a saucepan on the stove. He was pleased to find that the kitchen was much warmer than the rest of the apartment, hating the idea of Anne freezing all day because she had simply lost her ability to care. Wanting nothing more than to close the distance between them, snake his arms around her waist and breath her in, Gilbert forced himself to stay planted in the doorway.

“I can take over if you’d like, Anne,” he spoke after a few minutes, causing Anne to jump at the sound of his voice.

“Gilbert, I didn’t hear you come in!” she gasped, startled. “This should be ready in just a few moments, but you can set the table if you’d like.”

“Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly, shrugging. “That wasn’t my intent. I simply meant that you cook for us every night and I would be happy to give you the night off. Perhaps another time.”

Anne simply nodded and went back to her stirring, something which surprised Gilbert given that it was a known fact that he couldn’t even make oatmeal without burning it. Despite her cold demeanour of late, Gilbert was expecting a sarcastic comment at the very least. Not wanting to rock the boat, he set the table quietly as Anne carried their meal to the table, resolving to do all of the washing up afterward.

Dinner was a somber affair, as had become custom in the Blythe household, though Gilbert did his best to engage Anne in light-hearted conversation. The uncomfortable tension in the air was palpable as Anne shrugged off most of Gilbert’s attempts, giving nothing more than one-word answers, her normally sparkling grey-green eyes dull as they refused to meet his own.

“How was your day?” he had asked, care evident in his tone.

“Fine,” Anne grumbled, her voice cold and emotionless.

“What did you read today?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you finished with those library books? I don’t mind stopping to exchange them for new ones on my way home tomorrow.” His offer was meant to be helpful, an act of love he could perform while continuing to keep physical distance between them. However, his words struck Anne as though they were stones against the house of glass that Gilbert had built around her, the very one that Anne had locked herself inside of, willing the walls to shatter.

“Do you really have to gloat?” Her tone was harsh, anger and frustration returning a dim flicker of a flame to her sad eyes. “You get to go outside every day while I’m trapped in this tiny apartment playing the role of the bored housewife and I’m positively sick of it!”

Her words were icy, and if they were tangible, could have stabbed Gilbert straight in the heart. The frustrated tears welling in the corner of her eyes damn near shattered him. How could he have been so selfish to expect Anne to stay cooped up in such a tiny apartment with nothing more than a tired, cranky, and overworked medical student for company? It was not fair to her by any stretch and her entrapment had gone on long enough. It would pain him to be apart from her for a while, but Gilbert knew that watching Anne suffer, watching her wither away to nothing more than a shell of the vibrant, headstrong woman he loved so fiercely would be significantly more excruciating for both of them.

“That's it, I think it's best for you to go home for a while. Green Gables will do you well. I'll buy the tickets tomorrow,” he told her firmly, his mind made up.

The tears Anne had been fighting back began to fall freely. For weeks, she had been fighting the lingering suspicion that Gilbert had grown disenchanted with her, yet she had tried her hardest to prove herself a good wife to him despite his recent aloofness. Now, in just a few seconds’ time, he had confirmed one of her worst fears. Gilbert didn’t love her anymore.

“Don’t I get a say in the matter?” she asked, angry tears streaking her cheeks. “Or am I expected to be an obedient little wife?” Gilbert had never been the sort of man to make decisions on his wife’s behalf. It was one of the many things that Anne loved about him, so for him to spring such a decision on her without consulting first stung more than Anne cared to admit.

“It’s for your own good, Anne.”

“How could you possibly think that leaving you alone here would be for my own good? Unless…” She struggled to find the words to finish her sentence, worried that doing so might only confirm her fears.

“Unless what?” asked Gilbert as Anne choked back a sob. “What, Anne?” His tone shifted from curious to pleading as Anne stared at him, heartbreak etched within her eyes.

“Unless you don’t love me anymore. That’s why you want to send me away, isn’t it? That’s why you haven’t so much as held my hand in weeks and now…now you can’t bear the sight of me anymore, so you’re sending me back to Avonlea?”

“What? Anne-girl, don’t be absurd! Of course I love you. More than anything.” Gilbert gripped the edge of the table as though it were grounding him, preventing him from moving to the other side where Anne was seated as he fought the urge to take her into his arms. He couldn’t though. With the number of patients he was exposed to, it simply wasn’t safe. “It’s terribly unfair of me to expect you to stay in this apartment alone all day, every day. You’re unhappy here, anyone could see that, which is precisely why I think an extended stay in Avonlea would be good for you.”

“Gilbert, I knew what I was getting into when we decided to move the wedding up and I don’t regret being with you for a second, but I miss  _ you. _ It’s so lonesome in this apartment and when you’re here, it’s as though you want nothing to do with me.” She paused for a moment, sighing, fixing her gaze on the plate in front of her, refusing to meet Gilbert’s gaze for fear that she might start crying again. Anne hated the hot tears that had dried across her cheeks. She had always been an emotional creature, but normally never allowed proof of it to spill over into the physical realm, so to be crying in a mixture of frustration and desperation felt rather unsettling. “I don’t need to go back to Green Gables, I just need  _ you. _ ”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Gilbert tried to reason, voice desperate and pleading, “worrying every time I walk through our door that today might be the day I bring home the illness, that I give you the virus that’s killed more patients than we’ve managed to save!”

“On the contrary, I know exactly how you feel, and I imagine I feel it tenfold,” Anne shot back. “Every day you leave for the hospital, I wonder if that’s the day you’re going to fall ill. Nearly losing you to typhoid fever was horrible enough…and that’s when I thought you were engaged to Christine Stewart! Even still, I would never dream of asking you to stop because helping the sick is your passion! I knew the risks when I married you and I still could not care less about them.” Overwhelmed with emotion, tears flooded her red-rimmed eyes  _ again _ as Anne struggled to hold herself together. “I made a promise to love and take care of you. Even if you don’t love me anymore, I refuse to let you send me away!”

Anne’s words, the raw image of her breaking down before him shattered Gilbert’s resolve and he simply couldn’t get around the table quick enough. Crouching down, he gathered Anne into his arms, rubbing soothing circles into her back as she sobbed against his chest. As Gilbert felt the sobs wrack his wife’s tiny frame, it became clear to him that he was responsible for so much of the upset they had both been feeling of late.

They stayed like that for a while, Anne soaking Gilbert’s shirt through with tears as he pressed kisses into her hair, their dinner cold and forgotten by the time Anne’s tears seemed to run dry. Gilbert made a mental note to clear everything away once Anne was taken care of. After guiding Anne to the sofa in their sitting room, Gilbert tended the fire before taking a seat beside her.

“I’m terribly sorry, Anne-girl,” he told her sincerely, caressing her hand softly as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I wanted to keep my distance because I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you, but I see how foolish that was.”

Anne tilted her head upward, bloodshot eyes locking on Gilbert’s hazel ones which were shining apologetically with love and concern. “I spent the earliest years I can remember looking for a proper home, for people to love me. Not every family I was placed with before Green Gables was terrible, but even the most bearable of families found reason to send me back to the orphanage. Marilla nearly returned me, so when you grew distant from me, I began to worry and—”

“—And when I said I wanted you to go back to Green Gables, you thought that meant I didn’t want you anymore,” Gilbert realised aloud. “Oh Anne, I never meant...” His free hand cupped her cheek. Gilbert’s palm was warm against her skin, but his touch was not unwelcome, and Anne clasped her hand against it, willing him to keep her close.

“I know you didn’t. And I don’t know why I’m so tearful tonight. I haven’t the slightest idea what’s come over me.”

“Don’t worry about it, darling. The Anne I fell in love with feels things deeply. I find it most endearing.” His words did nothing in the way of settling Anne’s mind. Passionate or not, she felt so unlike herself. “Now, I think we’ve had a rather trying evening, don’t you? I’ll do the washing up tonight, so you can relax.”

Anne, incapable of finding the right words, simply nodded, and blushed as Gilbert pressed his lips softly against her cheek before he stood. How she longed to have his lips against her own, lest she forget the feel of them, but she was content to settle for now. Anything was an improvement over the past month, really. Anne could hear Gilbert moving around their kitchen, and again, she was struck with a wave of emotion—something the redhead was beginning to find rather unsettling. Chalking it up to exhaustion, she decided that perhaps it might be best if she started preparing for bed.

That was how Gilbert found her, not twenty minutes later, seated on the edge of their bed and running a brush through her hair. “Let me,” he told Anne, sitting beside her. The last time Gilbert had insisted on brushing her hair was during their honeymoon and the memory, combined with his gentle touch, caused her eyes to glaze over with tears momentarily. His touch was relaxing, however, and by the time Gilbert was finished, Anne found herself stifling a yawn. He changed into his own nightclothes quickly before turning off the light and settling into bed beside her.

Unlike the past several weeks where Gilbert had stuck to his side of the bed, his back to Anne so as to keep as much distance between them as possible, he settled closer to the middle and reached out to draw Anne into his arms.

“I love you so very much, Anne Blythe. Don’t you doubt that for a second,” he murmured against her lips before capturing them in a slow kiss, which Anne returned eagerly. One kiss turned into many as they revelled in the renewed closeness to one another. For as many layers as they wore, it was intimate and Anne felt more loved than she had in quite some time. Warm hands found each other as Gilbert whispered words of love and adoration against her delicate skin. And when exhaustion overcame them both, Anne and Gilbert drifted off to sleep, limbs and hearts intertwined.

Sunlight trickled through the bedroom windows, dulled by the grey clouds which filled the sky when Anne awoke the next morning. The space beside her was cold and empty as it had been many mornings of late, but Anne still found herself feeling more rested than she could remember being for a long time. Although it appeared that she and Gilbert had resolved most of their issues the night before, Anne still felt as if something were off in the pit of her stomach. Anne wrapped herself in her dressing gown before making her way to the kitchen in the hopes that a light breakfast might settle her. Prepared to make a pot of oatmeal, Anne was surprised to find a bouquet of poinsettias and a small plate of pastries accompanied by a note.

_ Anne-girl — I simply couldn’t bear to wake you this morning, but I found myself incapable of sleeping any later and decided I may as well surprise you with a selection of pastries from the bakery I recall you enjoying during our BA years. _

_ All my love,  
_ _ Gil x _

Anne’s heart swelled at the thought of Gilbert trekking through the snow early to surprise her with breakfast, stopping along the way for a lovely bouquet of Christmas flowers. He couldn’t have left for the hospital terribly long ago, Anne noted, as the box was still warm, and she found herself overwhelmed with sadness for a moment that Gilbert was not around to share her treat. Opening the box, Anne’s intent was to select a pastry—hopefully a fruit scone to slather with jam—but, as the scent of fresh pastries filled her nostrils, Anne found herself fighting an intense wave of nausea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took longer to get this one out than I wanted to, but it's finally here!
> 
> Massive thank you to my beta [_lydiastxles_](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiastxles) for allowing me to bounce ideas off of her and for helping me find inspiration whenever I got stuck on this one. Thank you to [_botanyclub_](https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanyclub) as well for taking a stab at beta-ing to give my draft a final read through. For someone who's never beta-ed before, you did a fantastic job, Cindy!
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope to have the next chapter posted very soon. In the meantime, come hang with me on [_Twitter,_](https://twitter.com/h0lyheadharpies) [_Tumblr,_](https://h0lyheadharpies.tumblr.com) or drop me a question on [_CuriousCat_](https://curiouscat.qa/h0lyheadharpies)!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm back with another one! As I was finishing up my piece for the Shirbert Circle (if you haven't read that collection yet, I highly recommend it), I was struck with inspiration for this fic and I am so excited to get to work on it! The setting and characterisation will largely draw upon the books and the films.
> 
> Side note: For anyone who's waiting on an update for In Every Possible Way, I promise you that it is coming. I'm just working through a bit of writer's block on that one and don't want to update for the sake of updating.


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